Reign From Above
by Danowsawa
Summary: After the disbanding of Overwatch, Dr. Angela Ziegler went off into the world, desperate to quell the demons within her mind. Now cold and bitter, she accepts a task from an old friend- escorting a new 'recruit', Fareeha Amari, to Overwatch HQ. But in her life-long quest to protect the helpless, Fareeha may need more than a gun to help the good doctor overcome her past.
1. The Lost Doctor

**_Welcome to the first story of my 'Expanded Overwatch Universe'! For timeline/continuity help, please check out the end of this chapter ;D_**

* * *

 ** _A/N: The wonderful cover art was created by the amazing Saro (lostlegendaerie) on Tumblr!_**

* * *

Dr. Angela Ziegler was a brilliant surgeon; on a scale quite unmatched by any other. Nobody could do it like Dr. Ziegler, and as such, her talents took her to places across the globe as her heart drove her onward, toward more patients. Toward more people in need of aid.

Indeed, her travels took her across the globe, but her paths would often cross each other in regions of particularly persistent violence, to the point where such areas became rather familiar to her- a fact that bothered her somewhat.

She had dug deep into her work, now that Overwatch had been disbanded, in an attempt to quell the demons that she found within herself. Finding it easier to simply ignore them, rather than confront them, Dr. Ziegler worked, or rather toiled, day in and day out, the fettered appendages of victims and other humans, their bodies near-lost to weaponry, providing to be a simple distraction.

Another troubling fact was just her cold she had become, more so to the violence that was so prolonged in the world. While Overwatch was anything but an embodiment of pacifism, she partook only due to her own drive- that perhaps she could save more lives through the harming of others. Obviously, as she saw nearly daily, that was not the case.

This constant cycle of hypocrisy -being party to violence, as well as driving to end it- weighed incredibly heavy of Dr. Ziegler's mind, and in her most private moments, it nearly crushed her. Though, she had learned long ago to hide such things. The "E" stood for "emergency", not "emotion", in those coldest and drabbest of rooms.

These days, she found herself in the Middle East, driving constantly around, stopping only to aid those on either side. The jeep she had commandeered wore the various insignias of neutrality, and in a third chilling reality she'd realized, she had become so recognized by the local factions, enough so that she would easily find injured children being carried up to her, desperately, whenever her foot touched the ground. Known as the "Desert Angel' in various tongues here, they had all become her enablers of sort; the constant fighting only serving to force her deeper and deeper into that cavernous space within her mind.

On this day, she had stopped in a small village and, after answering a question or two about a local boy's fever, she had begun to park up her equipment, pulling the automatic translator from her ear, giving it a thankful glance as she always had done. Another constant reminder that her talents weren't exclusive to only humans.

"And there's another one down," she muttered to herself, ruminating on the day as she zipped up the duffel bag that accompanied her at all times.

She stared off into the distance, her loneliness becoming as much of a drug as anything she carried. Hopping into her jeep, she pulled out her phone to see a message from one of her contacts within a global humanitarian group, noting a nearby village that was in need of assistance. While exhausted, it was something she was hoping for- another assignment.

* * *

She arrived, shortly, before a man in a white outfit walked out of the larger tents of this particular nomadic group. Angela hurried stepped out from her jeep, hastily wrapping her duffel bag around her shoulders just as the man noticed her, waving her along.

"Dr. Ziegler," he acknowledged as she came within earshot, "Dr. Testarossa. Happy to have you."

Angela nodded back, "Do we know what's wrong?"

Testarossa cocked his head to the side, admiring her to-the-point reaction, "An infection, but I'm not entirely comfortable performing any kind of surgery in these conditions, especially on a child. Knowing you were around, I thought I ought to leave it to a professional."

"Big words, coming from you," Angela retorted, flashing her eyes toward the emblem stitched onto his coat.

He only shrugged, "There's are some things we mere mortals cannot to."

Hiding a grin, Angela began heading into the tent, dropping her bag at the entrance, just away from Dr. Testarossa's path as he followed her in. His two nurses were standing on either side of a makeshift cot with a small boy, already under sedation. Ascertaining the situation, Angela quickly pulled out a small device, placing it onto the edge of the table. A small cylinder popped out from the top of the metallic box, before a ringed laser shot out from it, moving up and down the room, before returning to the top.

"That takes care of any airborne pathogens," Dr. Ziegler spoke up, "Doctor, if you would."

Dr. Testarossa followed her up to the table, opposite her, his eyes squinting hard as he watched how fast her hands worked. In fact, instead of hiding off tools to him, Ziegler simply dropped them off onto the table for him to collect. The only time she was slowed was on the occasion that Testarossa had taken just a second longer to hand another piece of equipment to her.

The two nurses were just as shocked, though while Testarossa watched her with a studying glare, these two simply looked on in amazement. Finally, Dr. Ziegler rushed a suture up the boy's leg, covering it with a bandage and antibacterial salve, before collecting her tools, allowing the flabbergasted nurses to take over.

"I've heard stories," Testarossa began, "But to see such a thing…"

Ziegler shrugged, "It's nothing."

"It's everything!" her counterpart spoke up louder, "If every doctor had the ability to do such things, anybody could perform surgery within a one -man team!"

Ignoring him, Angela gathered her things together and walked back out into the burning sunlight, covering her eyes, only to be taken aback by two people rushing up to her. The parents of the boy began speaking desperately, the father grasping her hand and shaking it as his eyes pleaded with her. She reached up to her ear, realizing that her translator was missing, but Testarossa arrive soon enough, speaking authoritatively in their language.

Suddenly, the two began to cry, falling to their knees and thanking Angela, reverently, before she actively pulled herself away from them, "Tell them it's not a big deal."

Testarossa watched her for a moment, but ultimately reached down to the two parents, reassuring them, and directing them into the tent. He stared at Angela, who seemed somewhat shaken, as she began, again, back to her jeep.

"Pray you don't have to do what I've done," Ziegler muttered aloud, "I don't think I'll ever save enough lives to justify the ones I ended."

She threw her duffel bag into the back of the jeep, turning to Testarossa, who only watched her with a serious stare, "It's not a talent you want to live with."

He shrugged back at her, "If I could save _one_ life, I'd do anything."

Ziegler smirked as she hopped into her vehicle, "It had better be a pretty big life, then."

She began driving off, stopping only to say, "Thanks for the help."

The doctor only nodded before watching her go off on her own way, the Desert Angel vanishing into the brightly lit horizon.

* * *

Driving through the dunes gave Angela a nice sense of seclusion, complimenting nicely the nice feeling of freedom as she ran quickly across the earth. In these moments, she was easily her most relaxed, especially if she was on her way to another assignment, but without such things, it only allowed her mind to wander backwards, so she simply sped up, trying to pull her mind in the same direction as her.

Her phone began to go off, and the wheels of her jeep grinded to a soft halt above the sands. As the dust flew past her, her head fell backwards into her seat, an exasperated sigh exiting past her lips. As she returned to check her phone, her hand ran up her face, massaging herself, before seeing the name of 'Winston' appear on her phone.

Her lips contorted in confusion. They'd remained in contact, though she wouldn't have ever expected much in the way of personal business with him, at least these days. She answered, her eyes closing at the potential implications as her head leaned back to rest on her seat, sighing lightly just as Winston's voice broke through the line.

"Angela!" shouted his boisterous voice, his enthusiasm resulting in the good doctor pulling the phone from her ear.

She replied, rather disdainfully, "I can tell how long it's been by how unused to that shout I am."

After a fit of laughter, Winston apologized, "Sorry, sorry, doctor! Look, I know you're busy, but you're the only person close enough for this task. You wouldn't mind checking out a potential recruit, would you?"

At that, Dr. Ziegler needed to hold in a scoff, "Recruit? What are you planning?"

Winston stuttered, "I -er-… That was a poor word. There's a former Helix Security member, of whom myself and the others have expressed, uh, _interest_. As such, she's currently in Cairo, in need of an escort up here. If you'd be so kind."

His voice wavered a bit, signaling his insecurity, but he was only met with a quick sigh before Dr. Ziegler responded, "I guess. I need to restock myself, anyway, I guess I can bring him along."

"Excellent!" Winston shouted in approval, again resulting in a rapid movement from Angela, "I trust you'll ascertain an accurate psychological profile on the way here?"

The doctor shrugged, "You mean talk? That's mostly up to them, isn't it?"

The was a silence on the other end, but Winston finally broke through, "I mean, you've been rather...you know, lately."

Angela turned toward the rear-view mirror, catching a slight glimpse of herself as she sighed deeply, "I know… I'm sorry; it's just been a long few years. You should know better than any of us how much easier it is to fix others."

"Oh, you're referring to-"

"ANGELA!"

At Lena's absolutely earth-shattering voice, Ziegler actually dropped her phone as her hand ripped away from her head, though it quickly reached down into the floor to grasp it again.

"-SAID YOU WOULD-" "-CAN GET OFF THE COMM!"

Angela stared off with squinting eyes, understanding what exactly this new "recruit" would be getting into by joining this group, in any capacity, in fact. Still, she couldn't help but grin a bit at the antics that would often warm her heart back in those days. It took her back, to happier times, without forcing her back into a broodish state of grief.

* * *

Leaning against her jeep, Angela stood outside the massive façade of the airport, awaiting her guest. She pulled her wrist up, checking the time, and groaning at the growing tardiness, a trait that was unacceptable back in medical school. Every minute was another reminder of the professor's rather harsh punishments for such offenses.

Standing there, clad in sunglasses, she simply crossed her arms, her lips pulled to one side in frustration, her eyes carefully keeping track of all the bodies walking past her. Finally, with a slight turn of her head, she noticed somebody walking in her direction, dressed awfully well for travel. In a suit. In a desert. In this heat.

It was probably just another traveler, probably a loony, having dressed up in a long-sleeved suit, almost. She ignored them and turned to the other end, continuing to watch, her eyes once again pacing down the wall of the airport, but as they moved along, she suddenly noticed that same woman approaching her directly.

"Sorry," the woman spoke up, embarrassingly, "I was busy looking for a sign or something. You know, like usual."

Angela stared at her, "Are there many Swiss women who just stand outside CAI?"

The tall woman laughed lightly, though with a twinge of that previous embarrassment, "I suppose not, no."

Figuring this to be her target, Angela reached up to pull off her sunglasses, folding them away as she reached out a hand, "I'm Dr. Angela Ziegler. Pleasure."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," the woman spoke, excitedly, as she took her hand, "I'm a big fan. Is it true you ended an epidemic so fast that etymologists the world over had to invent a word to describe the lackadaisical scale of the disease?"

Unfazed, Angela stared at her plainly, only speaking after pulling her hand away, "Things had to be done."

Without question, Angela reached out and took the woman's suitcase, though not without resistance, as she suddenly spoke up with a nervousness, "I-I can handle my stuff! I don't mean to put you out, doctor."

Angela suddenly noticed that the woman was, indeed, rather larger than her, in both height and muscle mass, so she acquiesced, simply directing her toward the back to settle her suitcase, which she did.

"Oh, uh, I'm Fareeha, by the way. Fareeha Amari. I sort of missed that; sorry."

Angela shrugged, "It was in your case report, after all. Speaking of, you do know why you're here correct?"

"Yes ma'am! I am to-"

Dr. Ziegler's stare prompted her to pause quickly, allowing the doctor to speak up, gravely, "Don't call me ma'am."

Fareeha gritted her teeth at the response, but Angela quickly diffused the situation with the same efficiency she would out to use on the operating table, "Please."

Feeling rather miffed now, Fareeha simply followed her host into the vehicle, stepping into the passenger's seat. She sat up straight, holding her hands on her lap, clasped together, with the same posture of a schoolchild afraid of the slightest movement causing trouble.

"So," Angela spoke up as the jeep's engine flared up, "You know why you're here?"

"Er, yes-" Fareeha trailed off, as though forcing herself to relinquish her honorifics, "-I'm, uh, sorry about a second ago. I didn't mean any disrespect; I've just been trained, more or less, since childhood to be respectful to my superiors and-"

"Okay," Angela interrupted, "First, I'm not a superior. I'm doing this as a favor to an old friend. And _old_ friend. I do not participate in active combat, I'm no longer affiliated with…that group anymore. All I am, to you, is somebody driving you to a helicopter bound for Gibraltar. That's it."

Fereeha sat there, a bit uncomfortable, as Angela sighed aloud, shaking her head, "Second, I apologize for being so standoffish. It's not personal; there's just more things I'd rather be doing."

She returned to the road, missing a subtle smile from Fareeha as she replied, "I understand. We all have our demons, I suppose. To answer your question from earlier, that's why I'm no longer employed with Helix. Just too much baggage there, emotionally. Well, physically too, but…"

Angela's lips contorted painfully, "Overwatch isn't the organization to go into if you looking to avoid such things."

Glancing toward her, Fareeha's voice quietly rose from a soft reply, "If I have any say in it, that won't have to be the case."

To that, Angela laughed, hunching forward in her seat, "Do you know, at all, how many times I told myself that? It's easy to say, now, that you'll protect those around you, but that day you finally get it drilled into your head that you can't protect everyone, you'll life will never be the same."

She shrugged, pointing to herself, "And then you turn into this."

Fareeha watched her, carefully, "Are you assuming I haven't witnessed death under my watch?"

A slight grimace appearing upon her face, Angela realized her slight miscalculation, "Be that as it ma-"

"No," Fareeha interrupted, "I've seen death myself, but that only drives me to be better. That's why I accepted this invitation. I would go to the ends of the earth to protect those who are helpless."

Remembering the good doctor's words just a few hours ago, Angela shot her guest a side-long stare, an ironic look forming at her eyes. She returned to staring at the road ahead as a silence formed between the two; Angela from being backed into a corner, and Fareeha due to respect. Despite this exchange, Angela couldn't help but feel a light sense of respect for this woman, if only because she reminded her so much of herself form years past.

"Not all helpless people can be protected with a gun," Angela muttered, slightly, a silence falling upon the two once again, though this one was filled in much sooner, "You have so much to learn, Amari."

* * *

 _'Reign From Above' begins a lengthy series of stories that I've been weaving throughout the Overwatch universe, and it would be best to read them in order, as certain events get referenced or drawn upon in later stories. So, I would recommend these to be read in this order:_

 ** _'Reign From Above'_** or ' _ **Lacroix'**_ or **_'Gravitate'_** \- ' _ **Madness/Outback'**_ \- ' _ **Christmas at Tracer's'**_ \- ' ** _Deadlocked'_** \- 'Incomplete Talon Story' - 'Finale'

 _Hopefully this will all turn into a freakishly epic story for you all to enjoy :) I've been at this for about a year now, and as much as it all has consumed my free time, it's been an absolute blast to think up all these characters and tales. I hope you have a blast reading them._


	2. Watchpoint: Gibraltar

Over the Mediterranean, Fareeha stared out the window of the helicopter longingly, realizing just now how little she had actually traveled outside of her home. She had gone with some friends to Ilios at one point for a vacation, but over these waters, she may as well have been a world away from her tiny apartment.

Angela, on the other hand, subtly went through a folder the pilot had given her, updating the doctor on everything Winston and Lena had been working on since her absense; projects she was sure the two of them had missed her input on. She quickly met with confusion at the lack of a file on Amari, but recalled just as quickly that she was supposed to be constructing one herself, starting with a basic psychological profile.

"Did you do any travel while with Helix?" Angela asked, her nose still deep in her paperwork.

Fareeha turned to her, then lowered her head, "A bit, but nothing outside the region. My mother didn't exactly want me off on whirlwind adventures, getting into trouble; she figured it'd be better if I ran around with rockets near home instead."

Angela couldn't help but hide a smirk at her sarcasm, though her voice remained even, "I couldn't help but notice you staring out the window. Odd behavior for a Raptora trooper, but then again, so is the innate sense to carry other peoples luggage."

Fareeha smiled at her host, "Sort of a mixture between homesickness and excitement. I've already spoken to, uh, Winston? and he assured me that they would have a state of the art suit for me if I were accepted."

Angela eyed her, rather suspiciously, "You've already spoken to them?"

Fareeha watched her with sincere confusion. The problem, as far as Angela was concerned, was that she couldn't know what this recruit already knew, and this, any profiling she was supposed to be doing could very well be in void. The second issue was that she wasn't told this, meaning, perhaps, that she was so far out of the loop, which she supposed she should have figured, given her seclusion.

Still, it bothered her, and while Fareeha watched her blankly, Angela rubbed her thumbs together in thought. It pained her a bit to think that she should be more involved, but perhaps she was just over thinking.

"Is that not normal?" Fareeha asked, "It's was just an introductory sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary, I thought."

Angela now eyed her suspiciously, though she didn't say anything. Given this recruit's persistence of that fact, she was now certain that something was going on that she was unaware. However, it wasn't as though her guest would be of use in this sort of intel, so she simply left it in space, turning toward her own window.

"Your call sign was 'Pharah', correct?"

Fareeha nodded before Angela continued, "That have any relation to pharoah?"

Laughing suddenly, Fareeha answered, "No, but I heard that a lot in the military, especially when I began leading units. I don't know; it just sounds Egyptian, and goodness knows I would go around being called Wedjat."

"Yeah, about that," Angela muttered aloud.

Fareeha moved her eyes, as though childishly attempting to see the tattoo that hid so close to her face, "It's just the ancient symbol of protection. It's funny; I hardly ever saw my mother, and to this day, I don't know her whereabouts. But, still, I aspired to be nothing less. She used to be in Overwatch, correct?"

Angela gave a disdainful glare toward her, "Yes, I did read up on that fact."

Fareeha watched her blankly, "I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

Signing dismissively, Angela waved a hand, "It's nothing."

"No, it's something," Fareeha spoke up, more heated than ever in front of her Overwatch escort, her stare only more so fearsome given her tattooed eye.

Angela rolled her head around, "It was just some disagreements is all. It doesn't even matter anymore; literally neither of us have any affiliation with this place."

"And you have no-"

"Drop it," Dr. Ziegler demanded, shooting Fareeha a stare, "I'm not the one under evaluation."

Fareeha shot her a knowing glare before huffing back toward the window, stretching her fingers on her leg to crack her knuckles absently. Angela dropped the file into the nearby briefcase before leaning back into her chair, arms crossed. As far as she was concerned, the evaluation had already ended.

* * *

Fareeha was the first to exit the helicopter, holding her hand up to keep her hair from flapping into her face as well as keeping her balance. Angela followed behind her, easily navigating down onto the helipad that sat atop the rather large building that overlooked the strait that took the Mediterranean out into the Atlantic.

Angela directed Fareeha onward, "They'll get our bags for us."

Her guest nodded, quickly turning to a set of doors that led out to where they were. They had open inexplicably, though Fareeha couldn't see anybody coming to greet them. In a blink of an eye, however, the visage of a woman appeared like mist in the air, and Fareeha quickly noticed Angela raising an arm to stop the encroaching apparition.

"Nuh uh!" Angela shouted loudly, as though trying to stop a cat from clawing some piece of furniture.

It had just about the same effect as well; while protecting herself from attack up front, she left her back wide open, and the apparition quickly bolted behind her, taking a hold of the doctor as the body of Lena Oxton suddenly cleared to Fareeha's eyes, nearly forcing Angela to fall face-first into the ground, though she just barely kept her balance.

"Angela!" Lena shouted aloud, "It's been years now! How've you been?!"

Despite the body latching onto her torso in a hug, Angela adjusted her glasses as she stared at Fareeha, speaking bitterly, "Please don't follow her example."

Lena snickered, though it didn't stop her from the hugging, "So you're the newbie? Funny; you look ju- Faheera?!"

Fareeha scratched her face embarrassingly, "Well, actually, it's Fareeha, but yes."

In a split second, Angela fell a slight bit forward, having to readjust her balance, as Lena bolted through the atmosphere toward Fareeha, her eyes wide in admiration, "My goodness! The last I saw you, you were knee high to a grasshopper! Now look at you!"

Lena hopped up, attempting to match her height, leaving Fareeha to simply laugh nervously at the big deal being made. Her eyes met with Angela, who had begun to walk toward the doors, now uninhibited.

"Oh, uh, doctor, do you need anything?"

Angela turned to her, knowing her question to be an attempt to be freed from Lena's introduction, "No, I think you'll be in better hands with our Tracer."

Fareeha frowned at her before Lena grabbed at her hand, shaking it rapidly, "How have you been?! How's your mom?! I kept asking about you two but nobody would ever tell me anything!"

The prisoner of Lena's clutch could only laugh with only a light amusement.

Angela stood in front of a giant sliding door, one she had known well from her past. Winston's office was on the other side; the room where most of the old team's briefings would occur right before leaving on assignment. Despite every official assignment eventually happening outside of the room, most of Angela's most vigorous attacks came here, with her arguing, passionately, on behalf of peace or, at the very most, fewer casualties than were to be expected.

She jumped in surprise as the door suddenly began to open, the loud churning of its engine whirring through the floor. There stood Winston, the pageboy primate-turned-scientist, with an ecstatic smile on his face, though one of more reversnce that Lena's.

"Why hello, Angela; I didn't expect you here yet," he muttered, holding out his paw.

The doctor happily accepted it, though with the grimmest of smiles, "Good seeing you, Winston. I can't say I'm happy to be here, but I sincerely enjoy seeing you once again."

He laughed lightly, "I understand. I was just leaving to find you simply so you wouldn't have to return to this particular room, yet here you are! I apologize."

Angela shook her head reassuringly, "It's fine, really. I didn't take a years-long sabbatical for nothing, you know."

"Well, if you don't mind," Winston replied as he turned back toward his lengthy desk, "Thank you for the trouble, by the way. Pharah has proven to, uh… where is she?"

Shrugging haughtily, alongside a grin, Angela answered, "Lena's giving her the ol' run down."

Winston grinning devilishly, "Well, if she wants to join, she'll have to be able to deal with the most lovingly erratic of us. Now, we certainly aren't reassembling, yet I don't think even you can argue the growing need for us. In that case, we need to be prepared; it's not as if any of us are growing younger."

Angela nodded, though Winston hurriedly rebuffed himself, "Not all of us, of course!"

She grinned, waving off the compliment, "I do appreciate your periodic updates. Age even brought our iron wall down a peg or two, and despite our agreements, I wasn't exactly happy to know about Ana."

Her grin molded into a saddened frown, "Even trained killers only get younger and better."

Winston sighed, "You're still on about that?"

Shrugging, Angela replied, "I don't know how one could see it any other way. Regardless of what for, it's still killing."

She looked over toward the long, boardroom desk that sat in the middle of the large room, "And they had the audacity to turn my talents, my ability to bring life and save people, and turn it into just another method of killing. That was about all I could take."

"I figured that's why you walked away so readily," Winston explained, fixing his glasses as he peered downward, "You didn't exactly explain much before doing so. I like to think I understood you enough."

Angela grinned, "I may be bitter, but _I'd_ like to think I don't hold any ill will toward anybody. Even if Ana or Torb walked in."

She stared seriously toward Winston, "..they're not here, are they?"

Winston laughed, "No, no; you don't have to prove anything, at least not right now. Though, I must admit, I was a bit worried about you escorting her daughter here for me."

"No ill will," Angela repeated, proudly, "And come on, you should expect better from me."

"No, I learned long ago not to set expectations that you will simply break," Winston noted aloud.

Angela nodded knowingly, "Fareeha is a good person. She has a tendency to wax poetic about protecting innocence, but she has a fire in her that will serve this decrepit organization well."

Winston nodded, "I'm happy you didn't forget your responsibility."

"Of course not."

A loud clanging came from the hallway just outside the door, and Winston and Angela both turned to see Fareeha standing there with her old Raptora suit held in her arms, a look of shame on her face, "Uh, _Tracer_ wanted me in the new suit as soon as possible…"

Winston watched her sincerely, "Tracer?"

Fareeha sighed, her head rolling back, "She said that, on this base, I am to refer to her as such."

"That girl," Winston smirked, "If we went by our callsigns, do you have any idea what all I'd be called from before I became a scientist?"

"I believe 'Stuffy McMonkeyface' would have been one, judging by one young zoo patron," Angela opined aloud, leaving Winston with a look of dread upon his face.


	3. Pharah's First Test

Winston tapped rapidly as the keys of his desk, the screen in front of him running through page after page of information. Across from him, Lena stood at another screen, her hands scurrying quickly from tab to tab as Angela stood at the large row of windows that peered down into the massive training room, where Pharah stood.

Arms crossed, Angela's head turned to the others, "Looks ready."

Winston nodded, pulling down a microphone from the console above him, his voice booming around the training room:

"Beginning Test Program 463. Please fasten your helmet. These programs are non-lethal, but will injure you. If, at any time, you require the program terminated, just say so."

Pharah nodded as her helmet covered her face, leaving only a dark Anubis head atop her body. As the program began, she immediately thrust herself up into the air, surveying the arena, wherein walls had already been placed to provide cover for her and the AI enemies. Her eyes eagerly scanned the landscape, and upon the echo of gunfire, she expertly ducked back into the maze.

Lena, who was keeping track of her biorhythms, mused at the results, "Woah, she remains expertly calm under pressure."

Nodding, Winston spoke up as well, "Indeed. It comes with her profession, but she also is the child of Ana Amari. Who knows what kind of training she's had to grow up with."

Angela's eyes closed slightly, examining the soldier's movements. When she had first joined Overwatch, she was much younger, yet was still able to appreciate the precision with which the elder Amari treated her skills. While it was used toward a far different result, Ana's rifle acted so much like a scalpel, her aim precise and true. Her daughter, however, while still somewhat calculating, showed exactly why she had chosen a rocket pack as a weapon, hastily firing shots off rather recklessly. Angela's lips grew into a frown; the destruction caused by this one a massive disappointment.

Still, Pharah made quick work of every target, completing the task with little to no difficulty, much to the astonishment of Winston and Lena, who both clapped briefly as she finished, bowing reflexively.

Winston turned to Lena, "Not bad."

She replied with a nod, and although Angela didn't agree, she decided to remain quiet. She was no longer a part of Overwatch, anyway.

"Think you can handle another one?" Winston called out through the speaker.

Pharah nodded, adjusting a piece of her armor, "Yes, please. It gives me a chance to work out the kinks in this new Raptora. It needs to be worn in, I suppose."

Winston nodded toward Lena, who eyes her screen critiquingly, her hand reaching over toward a dial on a nearby console, "Do we want to find out what makes her sweat?"

With squinted eyes, Winston nodded slowly, "..yes. I suppose we can't truly measure her unless we know her ceiling. Uh, I hate to ask, but, uh…"

"No," Angela stared back to him, pithily, "I'm no longer a part of the team, remember?"

He sighed lightly, turning back to his assistant, "Maybe a tad lower, then."

Lena nodded, setting the 'difficulty' of the program, "Alright, here we go. This was 76's initial difficulty."

Winston nodded, speaking back through the speaker to warn Pharah of the impending test. Despite her distance, Angela couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for this specific simulation. Jack Morrison, her dear friend. Could this recklessly frantic upstart truly be as good as him? Her eyes narrowed as the alarm rang out, signaling the test's beginning.

This time, Pharah flew into the air more cautiously, simply examining the landscape, popping out just slightly enough to find out where the AI robots were going, not allowing them to get a shot off at her. Lying in wait, she spun around a corner, blasting apart one of the constructs before quickly popping back up to find more targets.

As though having heard where the first bot had been felled, the rest of the constructs immediately opened fire onto Pharah's location, disorienting her enough as she fell to the ground, kneeling as she examined the charred marks upon her armor.

She continued along with Lena keeping stout watch of her heart rate, which changed very little, even while she ran, her voice cutting through the tension in the atmosphere, "It's like her mind is so focused on something beyond herself; she has no time to panic."

Winston shrugged in his chair. "Don't worry. If she is capable of such things, we'll find out here."

Continuing to watch, Angela didn't even notice her crossed arm having reached up to scratch the side of her head as the tension even reached her. Her eyes followed Pharah intently as she barely escaped gunfire, just barely managing to fire off rockets and felling the robotic soldiers.

After a while, she'd been cornered against the back wall of the training arena, where the three others were standing. Still, she acted as though she had been; the AI bots were studying here, but she was so focused on the overall task, Pharah failed to study them and their behavior. She popped up into the air to survey the area, but in a split second, her face was met with a bright shot of laser, causing her to twist around as she fell down to the ground.

Lena gasped as Pharah slowly recovered to her knees, clasping again for her rocket pack. As though nothing had happened, Pharah stood back up, albeit much more unstable, finding a bot rounding the corner. She quickly fired off a rocket, but not before another round of lasers came at her, pelting her chest and forcing her back into the ground.

Unmoved, Winston automatically held an arm out to stop Lena as she reached for the console, "Only she can end it. Wait for it."

She bit her teeth, returning to her console, still amazed by Pharah's heart rate having not even skipped a beat. The soldier slowly got back up, but suddenly was met with more gunfire, just barely rolling over her weapon, quickly whipping it up to dispatch the bot. She let out only the slightest of a grunt as she crawled back toward her only bit of cover, Winston eying the collection of bots that had now surrounded her, going in for the kill.

Lena turned to Winston, almost crying, "Winston!"

He simply shrugged once again, "Only she can…"

His eyes suddenly darted to the side, just now noticing that the three of them had become two, his body suddenly leaning forward, alerting Lena to the fact as well.

Angela had disappeared.

The two of them rapidly whipped back toward the arena, seeing Angela, still clad in her street clothes, jumping into the arena, her caduceus in hand, quickly rushing to Pharah's position. Winston watched with intrigue, his hand resting on the speaker, but he decided to let them be, now wholly interested in this development.

Pharah angrily stared into the dirt, thinking of her next move, her mind distracted by the collection of gunfire that had burnt through her armor. She began punching her arm in an attempt to distract herself from the pain, but jumped suddenly as a large blunt object smashed into her shoulder.

She spun around, seeing Dr. Ziegler there, an angelic glow coming from her caduceus, coupled with an intense look on her face, "Get up! You've not going down like a dog, are you?!"

Suddenly feeling the relief rushing through her muscles, Pharah rose to her feet, holding her weapon close to her chest as she spun around. With the reflexes of a scorpion, her launcher jumped to the side, firing at two bots approaching the two of them. She kept this up, much to Winston and Lena's amazement, the two of them ignoring their consoles altogether now, their eyes glued to the skill and precision that Pharah now exerted.

During the excitement, Angela skillfully maneuvered around, fully aware that she was lacking armor completely, hanging close to Pharah, keeping an eye out for any other bots. Miscalculating a step, however, she tripped onto the dirt, her caduceus falling too far for her to grab. She desperately crawled toward it, but was instantly met with a bot, staring down at her, gun drawn to her face.

Her eyes grew wide, the glow of the charging laser reflecting within her pupils. In a flash, the machine went flying, blasting into pieces against a far away wall, leaving Angela to freeze in shock, shaking from the too-close-to-call experience.

Suddenly, her body was lifted up, Pharah reaching an arm around her torso as the soldier eyed the platform from which Angela had come from. In a blast of thrusters, Angela felt a massive rush of speed around her, flying through the air, and landing like a feather onto the safety of the platform. She looked up, her eyes still wide, watching Pharah's solid eyes watching down at the floor, ensuring the two's safety. Almost finding herself entranced by those eyes, so full of safety and duty, Angela only came too at the sound of the buzzer, signaling the conclusion of the exercise.

"In light of the circumstances, I'd have to say this test was a success!" shouted Winston's metallic voice through the speaker, "Good job you two!"

Confused, Pharah looked around, as though still expecting there to be a further portion of the simulation. She looked down at Angela, who caught herself just in time to pull away from the arm that had still wrapped around her waist.

"Th-Thank you," Angela stuttered, seriously, "I've been out of service for a long time; I simply lost my footing is all."

"No, thank you, Dr. Ziegler!" Pharah assured, "I wasn't sure what I was to do until you showed up. I don't know; it's like a flip was switched and… I don't know. You shouldn't be so reckless, though; I wasn't in any danger!"

Angela turned away, red in the face from embarrassment, "That's, uh, actually not true…"

Her eyes shrinking, Pharah spoke quietly, "You mean…"

The piercing adjusting of the speaker cleared the air as Winston cleared his throat through his microphone," Eh, uh, w-well done you two! Please proceed to the action report chamber!"

Pharah angrily stared at the windows, "You seriously let her-"

" _ **PLEASE**_ proceed to the action report chamber!"

She huffed angrily into the air, walking along in search of answers, though Angela remained standing there, her arms wrapped around herself as though for protection. The sudden shock to her system, as well as… Why was Pharah so much more upset due to her lack of safety, and not her own? She lowered her head, sauntering along into the other room, her mind aflutter.


	4. A Meeting Over Eccles

_A/N: Sorry for the length of time to upload this. I was without power for two days, which greatly hinders my ability to write much of anything, considering how important listening to music is to my writing. In any case, I'm greatly enjoying writing this story, and I'm very grateful for the follows and favorites it's getting. It made those two days so much brighter!_

* * *

Angela sat on the bench of the action report chamber, where trainees would decompress after a session, though Fareeha was still upset as she paced back and forth, her breath huffing into the air periodically as though she were a bull about to tear the door down. Angela had been too shaken to say anything, but had calmed down enough to speak.

"If you don't sit and calm yourself, they won't let us out, you know," Angela muttered dishearteningly, forcing Fareeha to stop in place.

She sighed, turning and falling onto one of the benches, ripping her helmet off and dropping it coldly onto the floor. She dropped her torso down between her legs as her arms wrapped above her head, Angela just able to notice her nails digging against her skin. She had been so subdued, Angela was rather shocked to see such intensity from this person.

"I'm sorry," Fareeha spoke up quietly, "If I hadn't fallen, you'd have stayed p-"

"It was pretty much set up for you to fail, anyway," Angela replied, listlessly, "They wanted you to call out for it to the end. They wanted to find your limit, but I could tell you weren't going to stop until you were dead."

She shrugged as she leaned back against the metallic wall, "Just for some simulation, at that."

"I've wanted this my entire life," Fareeha replied, still quiet, "I wasn't about to let a _test_ keep me from joining."

Angela sighed, "Look, you're not going to get anywhere if you're dead, alright? We need you m-… _They_ need you more than you could ever understand right now. You could have gone out and cooked up a fine meal, they still would have accepted you."

"Regardless," she continued, "If you're on a team, you're no good to anybody dead. Sit tight, and wait for help. I can tell you're perfectly ready to take the entire world on your shoulders, but even protectors need protecting sometimes. The memorial wall down the hallway is a graveyard of all the people I couldn't…"

She trailed off, realizing she had been saying far too much than she was supposed to, at least given her now-cold demeanor. She turned away as Fareeha lifted her head, watching her sadly.

"…I'm sorry," she muttered again, sincerely.

Angela didn't reply, simply staring at the empty wall, her eyes tearing at themselves to remain open, lest she begin crying. Noticing this, Fareeha politely looked away, only to be met with the bursting of air that accompanied the opening of the large door that led out from the room. Winston walked on in, noticeably at a distance from Fareeha, as though expecting her to shout at him, but she remained quiet.

"Well, congratulations," he spoke up, giving an awkward thumbs up to Fareeha, "There were some kinks, but a masterful job overall. You must have been a great asset to your former employer!"

Her eyes bounced toward Angela before returning quickly, "Not great enough."

Angela eyed her as Winston suddenly realized the somber atmosphere of this room, simply replying with a, "Uh, if you two would like to retire… It's certainly been a day."

Fareeha nodded as she stood up, walking away gallantly to change out of her armor, leaving Winston alone with Angela, who braced herself for his next words.

"No longer in Overwatch, huh?"

She sighed, "Shut up. You know full well she would have died in that simulator."

"If so," Winston responded, "She might find it much more agreeable to dying in the field. She would have folded in no time. Then again, had she perished, we never would have seen that incredible display she put on. Still, that was predicated on you intervening."

Angela shrugged sluggishly as she leaned her side against the wall, "I've watched enough people die under my watch."

Winston sighed, shaking his head as he turned around, "Go get some sleep. Oh, and Lena has already left back home. She instructed me to invite you to over to her place tonight to acquaint and reacquaint."

Angela's fingers rubbed across her closed eyes, "Well, one dinner and I'll be good for another few years, I suppose…"

* * *

Fareeha sighed to herself as she left the walk-in closet that accompanied all the rooms on the base. After a quick shower, she had returned to change into her gym sweats, planning on walking the perimeter and taking in the sights. Much like the Mediterranean leaving into the ocean, Fareeha very much saw herself in the same light; a child of Egypt, now on the cusp of being thrust into the world.

The symbolism wasn't lost on her; the prospect of becoming a member of Overwatch becoming a more and more exciting idea, especially given the praise she had received earlier. Thinking of that same praise, her mind turned to Dr. Ziegler, who had been a source of confusion for her in the last few hours.

She recalled the simulation. She had been doing everything right, at least she thought. She had always worked alongside others, on teams, and she understood that she wasn't exactly working great as a solo operative. Normally, she would have though the test was stacked against her, simply because Overwatch was, indeed, known as a team-based organization- one of the reasons she had always wanted to join.

As soon as she realized, however, that Dr. Ziegler had jumped down into her exercise, it was as if a switch had been flipped within her, inexplicably so, as if the thought of protecting somebody other than herself had driven her to success. It was a feeling she had known well; something akin to an athlete in the clutch moments. Fareeha had, even so, excelled on the soccer team back in school.

Still, she sighed, realizing that she did need rest to come upon her mind as she wrapped a towel around her neck, grasping at either hand as she walked toward the door to her room. Before her hand could reach the button to open the way out, however, a buzzer sounded at the speaker beside it, the voice of Angela Ziegler breaking through the clear reception.

"I know you're out of the shower; I've already checked the meter."

Fareeha opened the door, a look of confusion on her face, "Were you expecting me to hide from you?"

Angela shrugged, "I don't know; you were acting pretty odd after everything earlier. Then again, I've been pretty secluded, myself, for a few years, which, some would say, also qualifies as odd behavior, so what do I know."

Fareeha continued watching her, confused, even as the doctor grimaced at how much she had just spoken, "Anyway, we're headed to London."

"London?!" Fareeha asked, loudly.

Angela sighed aloud, "Well, Lena invited us to her home. If I bear with it, I can put off our next 'get-together' for some time. And I'm certainly not going alone, so you're accepting her request, happily, and making sure you're dressing nicely for her and Emily."

With enough questions to quell a theoretical physicist, Fareeha couldn't help but continue staring at Angela, who sighed once more, crossing her arms before speaking lowly, "We'll take questions one at a time, please."

"Uh," Fareeha muttered, "Okay, erm, so we're going to London?"

"Yes."

"…how?"

"Jet," Angela shrugged, "How else? It'll get us there in an hour or two."

"And I'm, uh, getting dressed nicely? I only brought some fatigues, some sweats, a-"

"I got you a dress," Angela interrupted, pointing a thumb over her shoulder, much to Fareeha's shock, "I got a suit, too, since that seems to be your thing."

Finally, in a bout of relief, Fareeha sighed, though returned quickly to her questions, "Okay, and Emily is…"

"Lena's girlfriend," Angela replied, "Like, legitimately so. She's nowhere near as wall-to-wall as our girl; I personally need a few glasses of wine in between doses, so I don't know how she does it. You'll like her though."

"And…" Fareeha stopped, realizing that she finally understood the situation adequately enough, "Okay… I'll get ready, I suppose. I was planning on walking the coast and seeing the ocean."

Quickly enough, Angela shot back with a hint of desperation, "Just come with, and later, I'll show you the more scenic route, okay?"

Fareeha watched her dryly, "You really don't want to go alone, huh?"

She stared off, pithily, "That home has too many memories I'd rather forget…and have everyone else forget, too, so they'd stop teasing me."

Surprised, Fareeha dipped her head to hide a smirk at such a statement.

* * *

The two of them walked carefully down the sidewalk, more so due to Angela having to watch the end of her dress as they walked past various puddles that had appeared after another London rain. This left Fareeha with carrying the two bags, though her eyes constantly want to her companion's ankles every time she stepped over muddy water.

"For somebody so resistant to attend, you certainly are rather, uh…"

"Persnickety?" Angela finished, rolling her eyes, "Hey, we've come this far. Besides, you cant go wrong, in any situation, with a brilliant entrance."

Fareeha shrugged, "I suppose."

They had stopped at a small store to pick up some snacks and a bottle of wine, a merlot that Angela had decided not to explain was her favorite. They'd also visited a consignment shop, picking up a small, jade elephant to act as a gift for the two.

Carefully so, Fareeha carried everything so intently that Angela couldn't help but point it out, "Do you protect groceries, too?"

Fareeha grinned, "Just entrances. You'd be lacking without a present in hand upon entering."

Angela nodded in agreement, "You know that, yet you don't wear dresses? You aren't exactly lacking in confidence."

Unable to truly shrug, Fareeha just tilted her head, "I was always taller than the other girls. With my training, too, I've never exactly had the body for such things. Muscular builds on women, usually, aren't really prized; but I rock a tux like nome other, so that's fine."

She puffed out her chest, staring seriously ahead as her cheeks puffed out, "There's already been a few times where I've been mistaken as a man, but whatever; my old friend simply said it was the death of a hero or whatever."

Without thinking, Angela shrugged herself, "Heroes never die."

Fareeha turned to her, but before she could ask, Angela had noticed her faux pas and quickly brought her hand up to hide her face, "Oh, it's nothing. Just a line from a book I had as a child. It was actually the first book I had ever read by myself. It seemed to be a popular rallying cry among Overwatch, so I never forced myself to forget it. It just kind of comes out whenever I hear that kind of stuff."

Angela slowly turned back toward Fareeha, "Er, that was stupid to say."

"Oh, no!" she assured, "I didn't mind at all. If I'm accepted in, I'll need my own thing to say, I guess. Something catchy, maybe. What does Lena say?"

"Whatever comes to her mind," Angela assured, lowly, as the two rounded the final corner, the doctor quickly recognizing Lena's flat.

"Okay, if she starts asking about your favorite ice cream, just say something about frozen custard, "Angela directed, to the curiosity of Fareeha, who eyed her.

"Why?"

Angela sighed, "Just do it. I'm not about to have another generation brought up to grief me."

Fareeha, still puzzled, only turned away as she spotted Lena or, as she'd been directed to address her as, 'Tracer', waving an arm in the air, wildly, as another woman, presumably Emily, gracefully wrapped her arms around her in a hug or, as Fareeha immediately noticed after a slight straining on Emily's face, her simply holding Tracer back from immediately jumping onto her visitors.

Angela sighed quietly, but still strode up alongside their other guest with a slight smile, probably just being polite for Emily's benefit. Fareeha, however, couldn't help but smile at the scene, waving back, though with an admittedly much less subtle motion.

"Don't get me wrong," Angela muttered, quietly, to Fareeha, "I love Lena; she's just a handful sometimes. That chronal accelerator didn't help tire her either."

"Chronal accel-?!"

In a split second, Lena had burst in front of the two excitedly, having wrangled free from Emily's grasp and nearly causing Fareeha to drop the two bags in shock, her massive grin seemingly to brighten the night as she shouted aloud, "Cheers loves! I'm so excited to have you, Faheera! You'll love our home! And Angie! We get to catch up!"

Angela lowered her head at the sound if her ill-fitting nickname, waving Lena off, who then proceeded to jump up and down, trying to match Fareeha's height. Finally, Emily had caught up with her and pulled her down by the shoulders, nervously laughing aloud.

"I'm so sorry! She's been looking forward to this all day"

Fareeha only shook her head as Emily directed her toward the door, "Oh, not at all! She's fine; it's just very sudden sometimes."

"She always says that should be her middle name," Emily laughed, "She's _my_ little dervish, though, so that means enough."

Fareeha smiled, Aww, well then!"

She turned to see Lena walking alongside Angela, pointing up and down her dress as if critiquing its design, leaving Fareeha to laugh lightly at Emily, "To be honest, you're not at all how I would have expected. You're certainly more, uh…"

Emily grinned at her polite fading out, though she happily finished up for her, "Demure, perhaps? Or too homely? I'd have thought so too, but I know that, as far as Lena's constant goings on, she truly needs a solid foundation she can rely on to always be there. Even before we met, she would go months at a time outside her flat, still paying rent. Then when the thing happened, it really put everything into perspective for her."

Before Fareeha could ask, Lena dashed past the two toward the front door, pulling Angela along behind her, the doctor's look of sheer anguish ever-present on her face, "C'mon, slowpokes! Last one in's a rotten Eccles cake!"

The two vanished in an instant behind the door, leaving Emily only with a shrug as she turned to Fareeha, "Well, we don't want to be a rotten Eccles cake, do we?"


	5. The Great Battle at Dinner

Fareeha and Angela sat at the far end of the table, and although both were seated in the same manner, their expressions were vastly different. Fareeha happily watched the two hosts scurry about as they finished the meal, in between fidgeting with the various knick-knacks on the table. It was clear that Lena's sense of style was modeled quite readily after her attitude, as there wasn't much of a consistent one. There was a salt shaker, for example, that was the Eiffel Tower, and a pepper grinder that looked like a lion holding back a sneeze.

Carefully returning the bronze centerpiece of a trumpet lined with what appeared to be the limb of an artificial Christmas tree, Fareeha grinned toward Angela, "It seems like a fun place."

The doctor wore a face that could easily be described as "dismayed". She had watched Fareeha examining the décor out the corner of her eye and gritted her teeth, as though the disorder physically pained her. However, every time one of the two entered the dining room, she quickly shoved a smile onto her face, careful to keep hidden her inner desire to trash the place and start over from scratch with all the walls in matching color, at the very least.

Emily walked in and began placing platters down onto the table, happily watching the expressive face of her visitor, particularly Fareeha, who leaned over the table eagerly.

"Lena's bringing the main course, so I really should-"

She turned and fell into a frightful suspense as Lena appeared, carrying a gigantic, deep pan of something. Obviously strained, her lips crushed her tongue as she concentrated, carefully lowering her entire body as she placed the dish on the table, hopping back up in triumph.

"Wicked!" she shouted, giving Emily a thumbs up, "Told ya!"

Emily shrugged, "I mean, I knew you could, but I didn't want to risk ruining the meal; poor Fareeha looks downright starved!"

Her guest nervously smiled back as she scratched her head, "I, er… Truth be told, I haven't eaten since early this morning. I got pretty caught up in everything."

"Well tonight, you're in luck!" Lena winked, "Em makes the best pot roasts this side of Stratford! You two are gunna love it!"

"Oh, please," Emily laughed nervously herself, placing around silverware before taking a seat.

The four began eating, with Angela happy that Fareeha seemed to be doing most of the talking for both of them, not able to figure whether she was doing it on purpose or not. She knew it wouldn't last, of course, given the situation.

"Oh, Angela!" Lena began, happily cutting into a cut of meat, "So where and what have ya been up to? We all split up and you sorta just disappeared."

Angela sighed, taking a sip of wine, keeping the bottle near her glass, "Well, I was off, traveling around, putting my talents to good use, I suppose. I know Winston, at least, prefers living in the past, but the world isn't going to sit still until Overwatch starts up again. There will always be people needing help, and I, luckily, have the means to do without that firearms."

Lena frowned, "But you could have used your talents here, too, at least on occasion! We were all sorta-"

"Look, Lena," Angela cut her off, sharply, "I spent too many years doing things I didn't want to do. It was time I did what I wanted, and if that doesn't include everyone, all the time, then that's fine."

The air grew tense, especially around Emily and Fareeha, who both simply remained eating quietly, their heads down. Lena, however, remained with a fiercely sad look at Angela, who distantly took another sip.

"I don't love you guys any less, just…" she continued, haltingly, "You know. I was always the odd one out."

Lena's cheeks puffed up, seemingly taking offense to Angela's words, her fork pointing at Fareeha as she began again, "But you jumped into her simulation!"

At the sound of her name being dropped, Fareeha nervously rose her head slightly, her eyes darting back and forth as Lena continued, "For one who so loathes us, you certainly retained your abilities!"

Angela sighed, simply returning to her food, "I'm a guest. I shouldn't be arguing."

Lena watched her angrily, turning toward Emily for support, but she only remained eating quietly. Left with no choice, Lena could only poke angrily at her plate, the air around the table thick with tension.

Aiming to derail the evenings' progression toward failure, Emily happily spoke up, "So, Fareeha! This is your first time in London! How are you liking it?"

"O-Oh!" she replied, realizing what Emily was doing, "It's been, uh, nice I suppose. We came here right away, but from what I've seen, it looks like a beautiful city. Even Kings Row looks a lot better."

"Yeah, THANKS TO OVERWATCH!" Lena shouted angrily as she stood up, slamming her fists into the table.

"You got a problem, Graffiti Girl?!" Angela shot back, standing up as well to match Lena's pose.

Immediately, Emily rose to her feet, grabbing Lena by the arm, "Dessert. Kitchen. Now."

Lena remained staring, angrily, at Angela, who matched her eye-to-eye, until she had been pushed into the other room. Angela sighed, running her hands down her backside as she sat back down, shaking her head to herself as she continued eating. Fareeha silently went on eating as well, only her eyes moving to the corners of her sockets, watching Angela breathing heavily as she chewed.

There was a dignified fury to her, which caught Fareeha by surprise. She had come across as very distant, despondent of any emotion, and yet, here, she wasn't simply arguing. Fareeha could tell there was a righteousness behind her words; a passionate rejection of whatever ideology she had followed in the past.

"Sorry," Angela finally muttered, monotonously, between bites.

Quietly, almost consolingly, Fareeha replied, "You really don't like your past brought up, huh?"

Maybe it was the wine, but Angela didn't stop herself from replying after a short sigh, "Everybody in Overwatch, they all believed in peace through bloodshed. Maybe not in those words, but that's what they believed, through their actions. I was the only one who thought different, and wouldn't you know, the only one who argued anything different."

She groaned to herself, "Then it came to a head of sorts. One of our members, Torbjörn, developed this…thing, it was a biotic serum that could be modified in its use based on the genes of the person receiving it. Basically, it kills your enemies and heals your allies. It was… It was such a disgusting perversion of my life's work, and I could tell that they were trying to elbow me out."

She shook her head, "I had my defenders, one of which was Lena, which would explain why she finds such offense at me disappearing, considering how she put herself on the line for me, but …"

Shrugging, Angela continued, "I only chose to stay because I was so determined to make a change within the very same team that was seeking change. After we disbanded, I felt little need to remain within the company of vigilantes."

Fareeha smiled gingerly, "I think it's a very admirable trait. To be so idealistic, anyway. I respect that."

Angela laughed, "You know, for somebody so much like their mother, you're quite different. God, it was so…"

She paused, her eyes shifting to Fareeha, who replied, "You can say anything; it won't offend me. I cant even recall the last time seeing her."

Sighing, Angela continued, "I mean, she was the old…geezer, as far as I was concerned. So damn set in her ways; it annoyed her that some kickstarting youngster held to their beliefs as much as she did, I guess."

She grinned lightly, "For a team so united, seemingly, god were we fractured…"

Her eyes lifted toward the door, which Fareeha followed to see Lena, whose head was just barely poking out of the kitchen, angrily watching Angela, who showed her off with her hand. Lena brought two fingers to her eyes, before turning them to Angela and slowly disappearing.

"She can't even be angry," Angela sighed, but slowly she allowed a smile to creep onto her face, "She probably can't enjoy it long."

Fareeha spoke up, seriously, "And you don't enjoy being cold, huh?"

Returning to her distant exterior, Angela fi ally went silent, probably realizing, even through the alcohol, that she had opened herself too far. Instead of either retorting or running away, she played for a stalemate, simply staring forward in silence, leaving Fareeha to return to her own space.

"You know, leaving yourself open isn't a weakness," Fareeha spoke up, twisting around a napkin holder bookended by Greek columns, "I lost a good soldier, but I refuse to let that consume me. That's why I remain consistent. Especially in this field, opening yourself to a team always can lead to heartbreak…but it also strengths you, and your resolve."

Angela's finger bent at the knuckle as she pushed it against the table, "I need to stop thinking that you don't understand."

Smiling lightly, Fareeha turned away, "I'm not a geezer."


	6. Quid Pro Quo

Her eyes staring through the narrow visors of her Raptora helmet, Pharah nervously clacked her nails against her armor as she made her way toward the gallery. She knew to expect a severe challenge this time around, given the manner in which the last exam had gone, and the thought rattled around her brain. She had actually walked this corridor five times by now, in an extended series of pacing, almost as though attempting to avoid the test itself. Or, perhaps, she was waiting for something before it began.

She paused, checking the time to see that she was two minutes late in her arrival, a fact which grinded against her psyche, her punctuality now scarred. She bent down, wrapping her hands around her legs, triple-checking her armor, before walking again, nervously staring at the walls as she walked.

Finally, a voice broke through her trance, and she quickly spun around at the sudden burst of Angela's voice from behind her, "Winston sent me lookin' for you. Said he set the time late so that you'd be on time for him."

Pharah laughed nervously, scratching her head before realizing she'd had a helmet on, "Yeah, uh, hey…"

She paused, shamefully, looking away, which only piqued Angela's ire, if not her curiosity, as she continued, "Um, so, about the test… I know you're not, you know, but after last time, I don't think… Boy, this is harder than I thought."

Angela stared up at her pithily, arms crossed once again as she awaited this woman's continuation, which only resulted in her silently staring off into the distance before, finally, "Would you join me?"

"Join you?" Angela questioned, haughtily, "Really? You do know that I'm no longer affiliated with this people; I've certainly stressed that point more than enough by this point."

Pharah sighed nervously, "It's just… I'm afraid I won't be able to do it…without, you know…"

"Without me?" Angela laughed aloud, "Ha! You won't get in with me hanging onto you; girl, you won't have me out in the field. Hell, you won't have _any_ support out in the field without me. That's just how Winston and everybody decided it by forcing me to remove myself."

She shrugged, "Sorry, kid. or…you know what I mean."

Lowering her head, Pharah stood there despondent as Angela walked along past her, sighing, "You might want to hurry, you know. Lena will only keep Winston occupied for so long that he'll not notice."

Left behind, Pharah sighed, reaching a hand up to cover her face, her body now a mess of nerves and nausea. She suddenly felt more unfit to operate than ever before, but remained dedicated to the mission before her, even as she spun around, slowly, feeling a burning rejection like none before.

Making her way to the pre-op chamber, she took a seat as she pulled off her helmet, massaging her face with her free hand as she attempted to quell her insides. Running her finger and thumb down her nose, her eyes watched, blearried as they were, at the group.

"You alright?" the metallic voice of Winston appeared in the air.

Pharah sighed as she stood, nodding, "Yes sir. Just a bit of nerves I have to deal with. Nothing I'm not used to doing."

An approving vocalization flowed from the speaker before static overcame it before switching off, leaving Pharah alone, gasping for air with every breath. She held her helmet up, examining it, reflecting on her career before now. She saw her face in its sheen, noticing how fragile she appeared, and for what?

As the door to the training chamber opened, her head valiantly lifted up, only to find it still closed. She watched it carefully, but was only met, once again, by the voice of Angela behind her, forcing her to spin around, shocked. There she stood, adjusting her arm plates, in full-on Mercy regalia.

"What's up," she muttered casually as Pharah's mouth found its way stuck open at the appearance.

Angela scoffed, "Oh, don't give me that. I'm just happy it still fits."

She approached the door as well, standing beside Pharah, who remained in shock, sighing preparatory as she examined her caduceus once again, like an old friend checking up on another.

"You fly in that thing, right?" Mercy questioned, without turning, which broke Pharah from her trance.

"Oh, uh," she stumbled, "I, er, I guess? If it's not too high, er, or anything…"

Mercy nodded, "I've always wanted to see the ocean from the mountain peak above us."

Pharah watched her carefully, "Okay?"

"Well," Mercy went on, "I'm helping you attain your dream. The best you can do is help attain mine. Quid pro quo, you know?"

Still rather speechless, Pharah continued staring at her, causing a sigh from Mercy, "Look, I know how much of a turn off my attitude is. I don't know; I guess it's some kind of defense mechanism or something, but whatever it is, it doesn't work on you. You just continue to be interested in speaking with me, so what the hell, I might as be friendly for a bit. for a price."

She pointed at Pharah's rocket packs the rode over each of her shoulders, causing her to turn her head at them, replying nervously, "Oh, well, I mean… Yeah, that'd be fine. I'd enjoy seeing the view as well, I suppose."

Mercy nodded, "My wings are only good for speedy levitation; I can't propel or anything."

She winked at Pharah, which the latter thought to be incredibly out of character, "They tried tying me down, but they forgot that I still had claws, since I never use them."

Pharah grinned, "Speaking of defense mechanisms."

Mercy smirked back, whipping her caduceus around in a circle in her hand like a baton, "Okay, you need to have my back, because I'll have yours. I hate using it, but hey, we're fighting robots; besides my healing prowess, I can use this thing to increase stopping power or, in your case, I guess, explosiveness, so if you need a boost and you're good, just direct me as such."

Pharah nodded, nervously scratching her face, "You're not, uh…"

"Rusty?" Mercy finished, "Some things never die."

Strapping on her helmet, Pharah nodded once again, "Alright. Well, let's do this."

Mercy sighed deeply, closing her eyes in slight meditation. She hadn't wanted this, yet…here she was. Her eye peeked open, her head tilting so that she could eye the woman beside her. Though Pharah's face was half-hidden underneath a helmet, her mouth still remained. Her lips clenched tightly, her teeth probably clenched tightly as well. The intensity of this woman seemed to radiate, or, at least, Angela had spent enough time being cold that it was nice to experience such a warm emotion.

She gently swung her caduceus toward Pharah's legs, tapping it against her knees lightly to catch her attention as she looked up at her, "It's just Overwatch. No big deal."

Silently, Pharah only replied with a grin, so much more mischievously, given the Anubis face that covered her eyes.

* * *

Two hours had elapsed before the two of them returned to the action report chamber, both of them gasping for breath as they walked on in, desperately making their way to the haven of metallic benches on either side. They both fell into their seats, taking in oxygen before catching each other's stare, the two of them grinning at each other as they did.

"I'll be honest," Mercy began, in between breaths, "Your methods are incredibly unorthodox in comparison, but by every metric, you seem to surpass most of the people who've walked through here."

She smiled as she leaned forward, stretching out her arm toward her partner, "You should be proud."

Pharah smirked, doing the same as she bumped a fist against Mercy's, "It's not like I…was doing anything different."

Mercy shrugged, falling back into the wall behind her, "Your athleticism is astounding, you're calm under pressure. You remain professional and subservient to commands, which, thank god; we don't need anymore Morrison's and Reyes' running around, competing during missions."

Pharah grinned at her subtly, "'We'?"

Too exhausted to care, Mercy simply waved off her words, "You know what I mean."

She pulled off her headgear, relinquishing her heavenly image, and began slipping off her armor, "They could have bothered to keep this thing maintained, maybe. I don't remember ever getting this sore."

She grappled with her armored gauntlet, tossing it toward Pharah, "Just look and tell me it looks wearable."

She examined the armor carefully, scrutinizing its detail, "I mean, it is pretty old. Ten years, I'd say."

"I didn't ever have the heart to replace it," Mercy admitted, "This thing has kept me alive more times and kept me more safe than any human in this organization. Seems a shame to punish it for that."

Pharah smiled as she reached down into her chestpiece, carefully pulling out a necklace, "I never allow this to leave my body for the same reason. It kept my mother safe for decades; as soon as I inherited it from her, she took a bullet to the eye."

Mercy watched her carefully as she slowly pulled it up past her face and off her head, examining it in her hand before tossing it over toward Mercy, who caught it, looking up nervously, "S-Should I really be-"

Pharah silenced her with a nod, "You threw me a piece of what protects you. I trust you."

Mercy felt a slight blush, so she hid it in a downturned face, following the simply elegant design of the silverine necklace which seemed as much of an Egyptian design as the tattoo around Pharah's eye. Recognizing it as such, Mercy's eyes shot up to compare it to the tattoo, which Pharah seemed to notice.

"This is to help me protect others, not myself," she clarified with a smile, "At least, that's how I interpret it. Perhaps that's why I excel when I have a team with me."

Mercy smiled as she lowered her head, running her thumb over the small design, gently, "I never saw this on your mother."

Pharah shrugged, "She always kept it in her pocket. She always said that the weight threw off her balance, but I don't know."

She smiled, sadly, with a nostalgia to her words, "I still remember the night she gave it to me. We'd gotten into an argument, and I had called her a coward because she always sat back while everyone else worked."

She chuckled lightly, rubbing her cheek, "She punched me square in the jaw. I remember that pain too; not only mine, but…"

Distantly, she pulled her hand away and watched as she held it wide open, her fingers extended, "I remember the pain in her eyes, too."

She pulled her fingers into a fist as she leaned back, signing greatly, "It is what it is though. The one time I saw her was in the hospital after that merc got her. She was so proud of her eyes, the very things that protected her allies, yet she was nowhere near as sad as she was that night. She'd said I would need it more than her."

She chuckled again as the door slid open, signaling them to leave, their biorhythms having evened out. Though, they remained there, only standing once returning their held objects to the other. Angela turned to look out the door, briefly, while Fareeha watched her do so.

"Shower time, I suppose," Angela muttered aloud, "And don't think I forgot your promise."

Fareeha smiled, nodding knowingly, "Hey, I'm as much up for it as you are, you know."

Angela grinned, "Just reminding you is all."


	7. Atop the World

Fareeha's eyes quickly darted back and forth as she scrolled through multitudes of entries on the computer, her body still except for the rapid scrolling of her finger rolling down the wheel of the mouse. She had come here after her shower, her hair still sticking to her sweatshirt it was still so damp, but she had come up with a thought while in there and decided to quickly act upon it before forgetting, even if that was something rather foreign of her to do.

Going from entry to entry in the search engine, she didn't even notice Angela walking in, alongside Winston, the doctor having taken a considerably longer time after getting refreshed, dressing in more casual clothes with her hair wrapped carefully in a towel. Her eyes were on her phone as Winston spoke, the man's voice being the first thing to catch Fareeha's attention, though she failed to move.

"Ah, Fareeha!" he spoke up, "Nice to see you making yourself at home!"

Knowing, already, that he was not one for sarcasm, Fareeha smiled, "Oh, I'm just hunting something down real quick. I hope you don't mind me, uh, taking the initiative."

"Not at all!" he confirmed, "Angela and I were just-"

At the sound of Angela's name, Fareeha quickly whipped her body around, leaning back against the desk to cover the screen, watching, panicked, at Angela. The doctor's face remained down, however, at the soldier's rather loud motions, her eyes peered up at her, confused.

"Uh," Winston muttered, "Are you alright"

Fareeha quickly retorted, "Yes! Of course! Why wouldn't I?!"

The two stared at her, rather skeptically, but Angela slowly returned to her phone, giving Winston a chance to clear his throat, "Well, um, Fareeha; I just wanted to let you know how happy we are to have had you here the last few days."

"N-Not at all, sir! The pleasure has been all mine; I'm having a great time!"

Winston muttered approvingly, "Well that's good. You'll have an off day tomorrow to recoop, so I hope you'll take advantage. There's not much on this rock, but as you know, our jets can take you pretty much anywhere for a day-trip. Just let Lena know; she's the best pilot in the world, uh, despite what she may allow one to believe."

He grinned at the thought, "Anyway, like I said, I'm happy you've made yourself comfortable."

Fareeha nodded, "Um, about that. Is there a chance I could, uh, take…out…the, uh…Raptora?"

"For personal use?" Winston inquired, Angela's eyes turning up once again.

He chuckled lightly, walking over toward Fareeha and placing his giant paw on her shoulder with a smile, "Pharah, for all intents and purposes, you're as much a member of Overwatch as anybody else out we call our own. The Raptora belongs to you, dear."

Almost in a daze, Fareeha's eyes widened, "Y-You mean…"

Winston laughed, "Of course, technically, we're a dissolved organization, but just in case the need arises…you'll be on our call just the same."

Fareeha happily hopped in place, leaping into a hug with Winston, "Th-Thank you! I can't believe it! I… This is amazing!"

Winston nodded, patting her back, "We'll keep you for the pre-determined period of time, just to finish up some tests and metrics, but you'll be free to leave or do your own thing. Uh, same thing with you, Angela."

Angela nodded, though did smile just a bit for Fareeha, "Good job."

"No!" Fareeha shouted, "I couldn't have done it without you! Thank you so much!"

Desparatly, Angela attempted to jump away from her hug, but Fareeha's stride was much too long as she quickly caught the doctor in a hug. Angela blushed in front of a frown, her eyes glaring over toward the invader. Winston simply laughed at the event, waving the two off as he began walking away.

Seeing as how her superior had left, Angela allowed a sigh, resigning herself to her fate. Her eyes only just peeked open, but they soon continued as they caught onto the arm that had her in its clutch. For whatever reason, Fareeha kept on an extended hug, leaving Angela's eyes to work their way over, noticing just how wide Fareeha's shoulders were, almost surrounding her like this. Still, it was a very feminine body, to be sure, but with the same warmth that one would associate with the female bosom, matched with an almost castle-esque torso, Angela found herself rather taken aback.

"Uh," she managed to stammer, finding the ability to speak clearly, "Your hair is-"

"OH!" Fareeha shouted, immediately pulling away, "I'm so very sorry! I- I-…"

"It's okay," Angela sighed, her mind almost lagging behind as she crossed her arms.

A sort of awkward silence fell over the two and they only stood there, unsure of how to press on until, thankfully, Fareeha spoke up, "Um, I asked about the Raptora so that we could go, uh, "explore", I guess. If you're still up for it, I mean."

Angela's lips contorted in thought, but she eventually nodded slightly, "...yeah. That'd be fine."

Fareeha replied with the same nod, turned to leave, relieved that she was able to express the sense of shock within her, now that she couldn't be seen, "I'll be on the tarmac, then."

She sauntered off, pausing as the door shut behind her, pulling up her arm to wipe the sweat that had formed on her forehead, just barely able to remain standing as the apprehension flooded her body. Why the hell did she hug her like that?

She knew what it had been, already. For one so cold, she was still very warm to the touch, and in analyzing that, she seemed to have forgotten social norms, especially regarding touching others. He carefully walked on, feeling that same warmth upon her torso, as if it hadn't left yet. Shaking her head, she sighed, holding her head, knowing how uncomfortable the two of them would be in just a few minutes.

Angela, on the other hand, was filled with quite another emotion than apprehension- shock. Her hand hovered over the keyboard, almost shaking as her eyes peered deeply into the monitor before her. Fareeha had left, lost through her former happiness, without closing the browser she'd been perusing, leaving its contents wide open for any eyes. Angela had gone ahead to turn off the system, and in that, it became her eyes that viewed them- the last pair Fareeha would have wanted.

It appeared as though Fareeha was searching for a book. Based on a quote placed into the search engine:

"Heroes never die."

Her eyes shot into the screen, almost fearfully. How close was this woman wanting to get to her?

* * *

Fareeha stood on the tarmac, adjusting the last pieced of her Raptora armor, almost hyperventilating from the nerves that quaked through her. Almost as though reverberating from within the armor, it simply built and built, and she finally shut her eyes, focusing her breathing and slowing herself down. It didn't escape her that, under battle conditions, this would rarely happen to her.

As her breaths escaped her much slower and deeper, her eyes cracked open, seeing Angela approaching her. Just like that, her breathing returned to breaking out through her lungs and a sweat came upon her. She spun around as if to examine the backplates of her legs, but while it hid her face, it did little to quell the nerves.

She sighed heavily, rubbing her face violently to distract herself, and turned back around, patting her hands together in a show of professionalism, "You ready?"

Angela shrugged, "Ready for you to fulfill your end of the bargain."

The coldness only seemed to contradict the warmth Fareeha was sure she had felt, but she chose to ignore her thoughts, simply nodding at her words, "Well, uh, how do we do this?"

Again, Angela shrugged, "I mean, you've carried me before, right?"

Nodding, Fareeha nervously examined her head-to-toe, trying to recall how she'd done it before. She crouched down, then returned to her feet. Her arms would reach out, then immediately retract in a fit of nerves until, finally, she wiped her brow.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I don't kn-"

"Just take me," Angela interrupted cooly, with words that seemed to rattle Fareeha's brain, even if the same couldn't be said for Angela.

Cautiously, Fareeha stood in front of Angela and bent down, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and knees, pulling her up and into her arms. Ignoring the face that may or may not have been watching her, Fareeha cleared her throat, nodding in acknowledgement at how far she'd come to get to just this point.

"Okay," she sighed deeply, "It'll be a bit of a shock the first time."

Angela didn't reply, but Fareeha remembered her own ability to 'levitate' in her armor, even if she knew this next action couldn't possibly be referred to as 'levitation'. After another preparatory sigh, Fareeha knelt down and lifted once again, her rockets blasting off in a second as her legs extended.

She bounded up into the air, coming to a steady crash atop the tallest building, careful not to look at Angela, whose grip had suddenly tightened around her neck quite immediately after the blast. Without warning, she continued on, completely expecting Angela to comment if she became distressed.

While it turned out to be true, Fareeha had no idea. Angela had spun her head away, having taken to shutting her eyes tightly to prevent herself from witnessing whatever was going on around her. Still, while the rapid heights and incredibly bursts of speeds, she never felt in danger. It had been quite a while since she'd trusted another, but Fareeha's steadfast grip around her body seemed almost to force trust from her with how forceful it was.

Still, she managed until the two landed carefully atop the highest mountain around. Fareeha lowered Angela to the ground, but as she took to her feet, she stumbled, causing the rocket trooper to hurriedly catch her, smiling as she held her up, gently.

"Yeah, it's different," she grinned, "Being swept off your feet like that. Took me a good month to get acquainted with the feeling."

Angela held onto her as she regained confidence in her standing, "Like all my internals have shifted…"

Fareeha chuckled, "Yeah, kind of. Don't worry though, I've got you."

In this small exchange, the tension between them had been left down below, back on the tarmac, leaving them too occupied to think about the awkward air from before. Instead, Fareeha readily helped Angela over toward the edge, allowing the two to watch the scenery before them.

"Wow," Angela muttered to herself.

The collections of buildings that made up the tiny HQ seemed to small in comparison to the massive body of water before them. The ocean waves expanding off into nowhere in one direction with Africa off in the distance and the Mediterranean in the other.

"Makes you feel small, huh?" Fareeha noted, "They don't call 'em the Pillars of Hercules for nothing, I guess. I had no idea It came so close to a whole other continent."

Angela watched off into the distance herself, off wherever Fareeha was, following her excited stares. She'd been waiting years to see this view, yet it was all she could do to pull her stare away from the only other person up here. She finally pulled away, gently, regaining her ability to stand, which allowed Fareeha to stretch out her arms, trying to match the panorama with her own arms.

"Close…" Angela repeated, this person's words echoing the same she'd had just an hour ago at that console.

Fareeha lowered her arms, simply holding them at her hips as she stared off into the distance, unaware of Angela's eyes, watching her intently, until the doctor finally spoke up in a foreboding voice, "How close are you wanting to get to _me_?"

Without turning, Fareeha's face dropped, her eyes closing in a sense of a shame as she replied, "What do you mean?"

"You went looking for an obscure book that I referenced once," Angela clarified, unsurely, "You prefer to have me with you in you exercises. I can barely walk down a corridor without you showing up after a bath or after working out or…"

She paused herself, as though figuring out just how much of a bitch she wanted to be with the next line, settling for, "You do realize people like me don't get so cold unless we truly want everybody else to screw off, right?"

Fareeha still hadn't turned, though she lowered her head, "Well, I guess I should be impressed that you waited until now to bring this up."

Angela's eyes shifted, just realizing how much it would appear that she'd been using the rookie, but she replied all the same, "It's not as if we could ignore it."

"Why not?" Fareeha asked, her head turning toward the doctor, "You're gone whenever, right? Never to be seen by me again, correct?"

Angela cringed slightly, realizing this as the third time she'd made the same faux pas, and turned away, which only caused Fareeha to continue along turning her entire body toward her, "You could have left at any time, actually."

"What do you see in me?" Angela fired back, as though changing the subject, though it was clearly not the one she'd have preferred, even if she almost wanted the answer.

As if taken aback herself, Fareeha didn't reply right away, which caught Angela's attention, even if she answered soon after, "I-I don't know, I just…"

"You want to save me, is that it? Protect me from myself or whatever?"

Fareeha was miffed as she looked down to the ground, her hand scratching at the back of her head, "That's not it; I-…"

She sighed, lifting her head as though about to drop all her cards on the table, "There's so much more to you than anybody knows. I simply was interested in knowing more about you, about Overwatch. But all I found out was that there's still a flame in there inside you."

"You like to think your fighting is done, but," Fareeha paused, "I know it's all you can do to stay away from changing and improving this world. Maybe I just wanted to inspire you. Help you realize that whatever fight you wage, it doesn't ever go to waste."

Angela scoffed, shaking her head, "And we've both seen where it got me."

Fareeha shook her head slightly, "No."

Watching her carefully as she walked up to her, Angela crossed her arms as though to protect herself, but only found Fareeha pulled the necklace out from within her armor, holding it out for her to see.

"It means protection in peace," she muttered, explaining the silverine symbol, "No matter how much my mother fought back against you, you still affected her. She wore this around her neck every day, knowing that what you said was true. While the means differed, you changed her ends; all she wanted was peace."

"She was about to hang it all up," she continued, "Probably because of you. Before, you know…"

Angela shook her head, looking away, "It's a nice story, Fareeha. But that's all it is."

Silently, Fareeha remained there for a moment, until her voice trailed ever so slightly through the air toward Angela's ear, "You asked me how close I wanted to get to you."

Angela's eyes shot open as Fareeha's arms wrapped around her from behind her, holding her in a hug as the taller of the two buried her head into the top of her hair, gently. Angela wasn't able to move, much less speak, after her eyes had broke open. Staring ahead, she could see two shoulders around her, just barely, almost surrounding her.

"You're far too beautiful to be alone somewhere," Fareeha muttered quietly, "You're far too strong to be alone as well."

Angela's face blew up with a red tint, and she suddenly began to shake Fareeha off, which the latter readily accepted and pulled away. The doctor took a step or two away, almost in a dazed state, waving an arm at Fareeha, who simply watched her, saddened by the rejection.

"Hold up, just one second," Angela shot back at her, "You honestly can't expect me to-…"

She paused, her eyes inadvertently meeting with Fareeha's. As though some inner pair of shackles had been torn asunder, Angela stomped back up toward the soldier, grabbing at her hand and pulling her down, her other arm wrapping around her head to that their foreheads met, forcefully, their eyes unmoved from the other's pair.

Unyielding, Fareeha broke through, a confident, powerful voice escaping her lips, "How close are you wanting to get to me?"

While silent, it was just as eloquent that Angela only pulled her down into a long kiss, her arm only moving down so that her hand could meet her cheek as their lips found themselves unable to truly move away.


	8. Only One Night

Fareeha leaned against the generic vanity that matched the others in every other room, clutching its sides as she hung her head in contemplation. Upon returning from that summit, neither of them speaking after what they'd shared, as though it were a secret from each other, she had carefully returned here, switching back into her sweats, and found herself here, lost in thought.

Her head lifted slightly, just enough for eyes to peer into the mirror, staring at her lips which still seemed to burn. How on earth could one so cold scorch her so? She sighed, shaking her head as she stood up, walking toward and falling into her bed, rubbing her face.

She hadn't ever kissed anyone before, at least not in _that_ way. The fact that it now seemed to haunt her frightened her slightly, having fallen into thoughts and actions so foreign to her. Like many of the fears she had conquered, she had the tiniest inkling of diving straight back into those lips, qualling the fears with familiarity.

Then she simply rubbed her face more vigorously, chasing the thoughts away with whatever pain she could conjure up. This was her superior, after all; she shouldn't be having these thoughts!

She groaned as she stood back up, walking back over to the vanity and clutching onto her phone, scrolling through it with her thumb. Selecting a few things, she came across the digital cover of a book, her eyes narrowing seriously as she examined the cover.

'The World According To You'

By Ashley Jenson

She swiped along, looking at all the pictures. It seemed to be more of a book of poetry that anything, appropriate aimed toward children, and the pictures were colorfully hopeful, as though to inspire the reader.

Fareeha stepped back and fell onto the bed again, holding her phone above her head as she read through different poems, looking at the pictures, until she finally came to an all too relevant one.

"My Hero?" she spoke to herself, questioningly, the angel drawn in the background being a particularly obvious giveaway.

She read along, her eyes dipping off the screen for a brief moment as she finished. She read it again, and then again; it was a rather short poem after all. Her mind immediately went to a child being read this, perhaps by her mother, but as Fareeha read it once more, her eyes skimmed over the words more intently.

"If ever you were to come,

And stay, perhaps with some

Little thing that were to prove

However much time that you've

Thought about your angel,

One that you couldn't ever buy,

Only one that you can find

Heroes never die"

Fareeha squinted at the small text, unsteadily. It was a nice poem, with a final line that certainly would be applicable to most all of Overwatch's ideals. Perhaps she simply thought of it once joining, but that seemed too easy. Fareeha's eyes skimmed over it once more: what if they were words she needed since she was a child?

Granted, she had little to know information on her family life, but that alone could mean a lot. What if there wasn't anything to tell? She pondered on this for quite a while, but her thoughts were interrupted by her door suddenly opening, revealing Angela there, in what appeared to be her own version of pajamas.

"Oh, Docto-"

Angela held up a hand to stop her, "Don't talk. Since you seem to want to push yourself on to me, I-"

"What the-" Fareeha stammered to life, suddenly, "I- You were the one who…you know!"

Angela sighed, shrugging, "It was your fault. Taking advantage of a poor woman that-"

"You used me first," Fareeha accused, pointing at her, "Having me do your dirty work up a mountain before trying your best to hurt me."

Scoffing, Angela looked away, "You made a promise; I'd have had you do it regardless. And how dare you say I was wanting to hurt anyone? Just because you wear your heart on your sleeve; don't blame me for that! I've seen where that's gets someone; I learned from that mistake."

Fareeha rolled her head, signing, "No wonder you aspire for loneliness."

"Hey!" Angela shouted, "You got a problem with that? It suits me just fine."

"Does it?" Fareeha asked, staring her down.

Angela stared right back, but couldn't help but feel a shiver of nerves run down her spine as Fareeha's eyes peered into her own. Still, she remained confident on the surface, her face a textbook look of determination.

"Yes," Angela replied, slowly and purposefully, "It does."

Fareeha watched her for only a moment or two further before she began stepping toward her, her eyes failing to break away from her opponants', "I think you're lying. I think you came here because you wanted to argue, because even in an argument, you get to be around, talking to others."

She now stood directly in front of Angela, the doctor's head now raised as much as Fareeha's cast down, "I think you remain here because we've been the best company you've had since you've left."

Suddenly, her hand reached up, holding Angela's angered face by the cheek as her eyes peered ever deeper into her, "I think that if I did what I've wanted to do, you wouldn't object. Because you've never been _that_ close to somebody, at least not in a long time."

Angela's eyes hadn't blinked in quite some time, only doing so as she raised her arm to remove Fareeha's hand from her cheek in an effort to turn away, "I think you're insane, you-"

Instantly cutting her off, Fareeha leaned down as she clutched Angela at the back of her neck, supporting her as her lips came to hers. Angela's angry eyes stared at her face, though she didn't pull away, simply grasping at Fareeha's collar and pulling her in tighter as though doing so was punishing her.

While their kisses went on, Fareeha forced Angela back against the wall, a bestial moan coming from the doctor in between the force of her slamming against the wall and the sheer primal actions if their lips desperately attempting to return to each other in between rapid breaths.

Nearly lost in this haze, Angela desperately hunted for an advantage, her hands quickly running to Fareeha's waist and working underneath her shirt, attaching to her stomach as her lips broke away, her head leaning down to watch her hands, covered by her shirt running back down over them. Fareeha's head swung down, watching the same thing.

Angela's hands worked over Fareeha's smooth yet tough skin. Despite how muscular she appeared, her skin remained lovingly feminine, catching Angela off guard. In her rubbing of her stomach, her finger ran across a scar or two, tracing them until Fareeha suddenly shuddered from the sensation.

Angela slowly lifted up her sweatshirt, watching Fareeha's lovely, tinted skin emerge, her other hand still pressed against her stomach as she breathed heavily, almost intoxicatingly so. Her hands felt nothing but warmth, and although her eyes didn't move, she could suddenly feel Fareeha's gaze upon her, her face suddenly bursting into a light incineration as she blushed.

Fareeha's hand reached over toward her, gently lifting Angela's chin upward, just before their lips met yet again, though only for a moment this time before her voice roamed the air between them, "Let me keep you warm."

Angela's eyes darted back, almost critiquingly, to Fareeha's, almost as though denying the last few minutes, even if the words that escaped from her were, "Only for tonight."

"That's all I need," Angela admitted, muttering, "And don't think you can win me over beyond that. I'm using you the same way you're using me, alright?"

Fareeha grinned, "We'll see. I seem to have gotten here once, now. I'll just have to do it again, in time."

Angela scoffed at her, but still pulled the taller woman in toward her. She had just as quickly held her reservations outside the door, along with whatever sense would have kept her from being here to begin with. Perhaps there was truth to Fareeha's accusations, but Angela was far beyond any of that. She could still remain solitary, if only from one night with somebody, in this way. It didn't hurt that she happened to find her so damn beautiful as well.

* * *

Angela's eyes opened slightly, awoken by nothing other than her body happening to wake on its own. She had fallen asleep earlier than usual, so it was only natural to see a dark room surrounding her now; though, what wasn't natural was that she wasn't in her own room. That fact bothered her little, especially considering how powerfully her sleepiness had taken her, only matching the power with which the body beside her had taken her as well.

Sleeping on her stomach since childhood, her face was still buried in a pillow as her eyes opened slightly, unable to see peripherally. She blinked for a few moments as she recalled the last few hours, even if some time had been lost in between sleep and pleasure, only keeping her eyes open as a slight pressure suddenly pushed against he top of her back, slowly sliding down her spine.

Her head spun slightly to see Fareeha on her side, her arm outstretched toward her, allowing her finger to run the length of her back before her eyes twinkled back up toward Angela's face with a slight smile.

"Morning," she muttered, even though the two were still in darkness.

Angela stretched slightly, not bothering to reply in kind as she closed her eyes, "It's still dark."

She felt the bed vibrate, accompanying a slight chuckle from the other, "I have you until morning. Don't tell me you're not counting the hours until you can get away."

Groaning into the pillow, Angela replied sleepily, "Oh hush. Just because I choose to be alone doesn't mean I can't appreciate a warm bed. I could go without your prodding, though."

Fareeha's finger stopped just at the small of her back, "You weren't complaining much earlier."

Angela's head slid to the side again, allowing her to eye her partner, only eliciting a grin from Fareeha as she pulled her hand away, resting her head sidelong into her pillow. The doctor returned her head to her pillow, leaving Fareeha alone to stare at her messy head of hair.

"I could do without the staring, too," Angela muttered through her pillow.

Fareeha sighed with a grin, "You know, you're far more agreeable when you're heated."

Groaning again, Angela retorted, "Are you trying to get on my bad side already?"

"No," Fareeha confirmed, "I just think you're pretty cute when you act like this."

Realizing she was fighting a losing battle, either way, with this woman, Angela chose to simply remain silent, helped along by her being hidden within a pillow. She shut her eyes, embarrassed, unsure of whether or not she enjoyed this attention. Obviously, she had miscalculated. In seeking some sort of solace in some physical form, she hadn't much considered afterward. Yet, she thought, she was still here. Why?

She peeked outside her soft haven, just barely seeing out to find Fareeha having laid back down, a back sleeper by comparison, with eyes closed. Her figure was, indeed, beautiful, Angela noticed, her ridges and curves rather eloquent before finding the blankets.

"To be completely honest," Fareeha spoke up, pausing as she thought of how to reroute her question, "When you said we would just be "using" another… Did you truly mean that?"

Angela's eyes shifted to the side before she sighed heavily, "No… Of course not. I wouldn't hurt you like that. Hippocratic oath and all."

Fareeha grinned slightly at her joke before Angela went on, "Even you taking me up there… I didn't mean to hurt you there, I just…"

She sighed once more, "Okay, let's get one thing straight. I don't hate or dislike you, despite my attitude. I actually think of you as a friend, okay? Maybe something more after tonight, but… What I mean to say is that I wouldn't ever choose to hurt you, okay?"

Fareeha smiled, turning to look at Angela, "Okay. That's all I needed to know."

Angela returned to her haven, burying her face deep in feathered comfort. Again embarrassed by her admission, she used this time to hide her face, though it wouldn't last long. Suddenly, she felt two arms wrapped around her waist, feeling her body slowly being pulled across the mattress, right against Fareeha's body, giving the taller of the two the chance to nuzzle her face into Angela's shoulder.

"If it is for one night, I'm getting my money's worth," Fareeha cooed lightly into her ear before gently kissing the nape of her neck.

Angela was far too shocked to react, only staring forward into the sheets, her entire body encapsulated, almost, by the warmth of this woman who had so easily taken her when nobody else would ever be allowed to. She closed her eyes, tightly, in resignation, but it only heightened the sense of heat and bosom behind her, causing her to return to staring down at the threaded sheets.

Fareeha had laid her head down, quietly taking in the moment, her concentration just broken by the soft words from beneath her, "Is this why you performed so well with me around?"

Grinning slightly, Fareeha let out a soft chuckle as she answered, "Perhaps. Maybe I just have a knack for protecting beautiful women. More than likely, though, I've already made a promise not to allow anybody else to die under my watch."

Angela sighed, shaking her head, "Like I said before, those are big words."

Fareeha stared off into the distance thoughtfully, but Angela quickly spoke up again, "What exactly happened. To, you know, make you that way?"

At Fareeha's silence, Angela screwed her lips, "I'm a surgeon, not a psychiatrist."

Thankfully, Fareeha laughed lightly at this, easing her conscious. Angela couldn't see what she was doing, but could tell she was adjusting her head, probably in thought. She could have easily broken free from her grasp and spun around to make for better conversation, but suddenly found it difficult to do so as Fareeha began.

"Granted, I've been acquainted with death since my days in the army, but… They weren't my responsibility, I guess; and even once I began ascending rank, I gradually moved further and further from the front lines. It wasn't until I joined Helix that I was finally given command of a group of men I called my own, so naturally, that was when I was faced with, finally, the prospect that entire lives ride on my expertise."

"So when you jumped down, that first day I was here," Fareeha spoke up, "This person I so greatly admired, putting so much on the line, without armor no less… It was like some primal sense of fight came to me. I thought of nothing except ensuring you were safe, keeping you able to see another day."

Her head shifted down closer toward Angela's, her grasp tightening around her waist, "Now I can only think of seeing you, myself, another day."

Angela's bent backward, her eyes now able to lock onto Fareeha's, with her usually cold stare, though they had a warmth within them, deeply so, "I never said I would leave this…friendship, though I would think it improper, all things considered, to carry on like _this_."

Fareeha frowned slightly, "I can't look at you, now, without seeing the curves of your body, or the smell of your hair, or even the touch of your lips against my neck."

Before Angela could shoot back, Fareeha's grip suddenly tightened, "And I'm not about to forget any of that."

Angela's breath huffed lowly as she lowered her head again, resigning herself as her hand came up, starting at Fareeha's elbow and running down her forearm before closing at the back of her had, "You're so helpless."

"You nearly made me forgot who I even was," Fareeha smirked, "I'd say it's your fault I'm rather helpless at this point."

Finding it lucky she had, again, hidden her face, Angela allowed her blush without any movement.


	9. Not Easy

Fareeha sat at the edge of her bed, having returned her sweats to her body, and simply sat there with her leg up as she'd turned to watch Angela get dressed herself. The doctor had already worked her way up from her feet and now sat, looking away, at the other side of the bed, working her bra back on without much words between either of them. As she grabbed for her shirt, she could hear Fareeha getting to her feet behind her.

"So what's the agenda today?" she asked, beginning to slowly pull her shirt over her head.

Fareeha shrugged, arms crossed, "Not sure. Winston mentioned some more tests, but also mentioned a day off, so…"

She looked off distantly, passing for a moment before going on, "I guess I'm just playing it by ear then. You?"

Angela sighed, "I really do need to get back. I do the work of five surgeons; it's difficult to replace that workload."

Fareeha nodded slowly, rounding the bed toward the door as Angela stood up herself, "Well, is this goodbye for now, then?"

Angela messed with her hair, fixing it as she tucked it behind her ear, "I mean, I'll have some minor stuff here today before, so- It's not yet, anyway."

She turned to Fareeha, her lips contorting into the slightest of grins, "I mean, I'll have plenty to add to your psyche profile now."

Fareeha lowered her head to hide a smile, her hand resting against the door handle, ready to allow Angela to leave as the doctor spoke up, "After a shower, I'll probably help Winston with a few things since it may be a while, and then Lena, I'm sure, will drag me into something or another."

Fareeha nodded, her head still lowered. Angela watched her sadly, more so due to her demeanor rather than the fact of their parting, her own head dropping slightly in empathy. She walked toward her quietly, stopping just in front of her and holding a hand on her shoulder.

"I've spent, maybe, three nights of my life in the arms of another person, including last night," Angela muttered, "And last night was easily the best."

Fareeha's eyes peered up toward her, along with a soft smile, "Same here."

She turned the knob, opening the door and pushing it open all the way as she went on, "Go on; get out of here."

"Ma'am," Angela grinned, "I'm still your superior, you know."

Smiling in kind, Fareeha reached out to grab Angela's hand, lifting it up toward her lips, "Ma'am."

Angela fought to keep her hand parted from her, replying, "Superior. You don't kiss unless kissed upon first."

Fareeha looked on in surprise, but Angela only smiled, using her hand to pull her down so that their lips could meet briefly before parting. The doctor's hand ran across Fareeha's stomach as she walked by, slowly closing the door as she left, leaving the soldier standing there, quietly. Her hand reached up, running across her stomach, emulation Angela's motion, sadly. Looking up, she sighed; the time she had worked for having, finally, expired.

* * *

Angela stood against the tile wall of the shower, standing as she often did, simply allowing the hot water to flow down the length of her body. Normally, this was the time she could truly clear her mind and meditate of the current goings-on around her, even oftentimes simply clearing herself of all thought altogether.

Today, however, she remained thinking of the night before, lost in thoughts of passion she hadn't known was still within her. The idea more surprised her than embarrassed her; she had gone to simply relieve her inner desires, albeit cheaply, with somebody clearly interested in the same thing, however, lost within this woman, as she was now in her thoughts, she'd found herself entangled, the only way to escape being to surrender herself to her own primal instincts.

She remembered the night in detail, with the exception of a few hazy bits, but she knew it had been anything but the cheap thing she was seeking. and that frightened her. What should have been an easy morning of packing and leaving had now become a sluggish attempt at leaving the very source of life and pleasure she had had in years.

As she stood there, she heard the door open behind her, causing her to stand up straight with a sigh, "Lena! Don't you dare turn up the hot water; it wasn't funny five years ago!"

Silence returned to the bathroom, except for the expected sigh from Angela, who continued standing under the shower head, her hair raining down in front of her face as she groaned, "I swear, that girl…"

She reached up to grasp for a bottle of soap, when suddenly, she heard the sound of shallow water being splashed asunder, her head jolting up in shock. Before she could turn, she was met with a multitude of sensations at the backside of her wrapped, the most prominent ones being the tender breasts at her shoulders and the strong arms around her torso; sensations she had become well acquainted with quite recently, leaving her no doubt as to the identity of her visitor.

Fareeha's face buried itself into her scalp, resting there silently, leaving Angela alone to stand there unsurely. She didn't move, only trying to understand this woman that held onto her with such care but to no avail. Her lips may have contorted and her eyes may have shut dismissively, but she couldn't escape the slight joy of being sought so vigorously.

Still, she had to ask, "What do you think you-"

"Don't go," Fareeha spoke in a whisper, just barely pushing her voice beyond the clattering of water on tile.

Angela remained still as she sighed, "Helpless."

Her hands rose up to hang on to whichever of Fareeha's arms they could clutch onto her as she sighed, "Why do you seek me out? I don't want to be found, you know. You're going awfully far just to protect somebody."

Silence fell again, except for the pitter-patter of sprinkling water, which seemed so much hotter against Angela's skin now that she was being held onto, but with another whisper, Fareeha replied sincerely, "Can you blame me for somebody I've so admired being so much more unfathomably amazing in person?"

Angela shook her head as her hands gripped tighter at Fareeha's arms, "I'm not amazing. You should know. I'm just a shell of what I used to be; broken by the same group you wish to join. Ever since we met, I've been cold, distant; I've dome everything possible to keep you away, and still you persist, despite how mean and spiteful and-"

Fareeha's face suddenly fell into the nape of her neck, cutting her off as a soft voice emerged, "and still burning with a passion and desire unmatched by most. You may have buried it deeper than most, but I know it's there. You're so beautiful, Angela, and despite how you perceive yourself, I can't help but be drawn to somebody so resilient. So…raw with emotion that you force yourself to hide it."

She slowly lifted her face so that she could gently leave a kiss on Angela's neck, "If you're afraid of being yourself because of the battles it causes you to have to wage, then let me fight by your side. If you ask me to, I'll lay down my weapons, but I'll still stand beside you and protect you regardless. Because all I want is that woman who, just last night, took my heart and soul on an unforgettable journey."

Angela sighed, lowering her head as she spun around within Fareeha's arms, "I won't be easy to care for."

"Okay."

"I won't be easy to protect."

"That's fine."

"I won't… I won't be easy to love."

Fareeha smiled, "Alright."

"I won't be-"

And cut off by Fareeha's lips, Angela couldn't help be happy that there was enough water raining down to disguise her tears, and that there were, now, enough kisses raining down on her to keep her from crying any more.

"It'll take some getting used to," she managed in between light pecks.

"Okay," Fareeha replied, in between her own pressing of lips, "As long as I'm yours, I can wait."

* * *

Winston and Lena both stared curiously over toward the large window that covered the operations room from the training facility, their eyes locked on to Doctor Ziegler, who stood there vacantly, a straw in her mouth as she absently sucked in some soda. She blinked dismissively as she noticed the two's stares, her face turning just enough so that her eyes could check them from their corners.

"Yes?" she asked blankly.

Winston stammered as he returned to his work, "N-Nothing, just… I expected you to have left already."

She shrugged, looking back into the chamber, "I hope you don't mind the imposition."

"Not at all!" he shouted, "We have more room than we know what to do with. You're more than welcome. Just a surprise, is all."

Angela nodded, though Lena remained glaring at her from afar, seemingly still upset from a few nights ago, though her ears perked at Angela's voice continuing, "Tracer, you have some cake in your room for afterwards. I hope _you_ don't mind the imposition either…or the apology."

With a broad smile, Lena quickly warped to Angela's side, quickly hugging her, "It's nothin', love! Please; I was only kidding around, y'know."

Angela gritted her teeth at the unwelcomed embrace, "I must have been mistaken by your stance; it just seemed as though you were about to come at me like a panther over the table."

Lena laughed, nervously, "Hehe, I mean… Yeah..."

Winston knocked on his desk to grab Lena's attention, causing her to flash back to her computer console as Winston's eyes remained locked onto his monitors. The two continued their tests, nodding and jotting down notes as time went on. Angela remained staring into the arena, watching Fareeha doing push ups in the middle of an obstacle course.

"I suspected as much," Winston noted aloud, "Her heart rate is incredibly stable; as expected of the daughter of a sniper, I suppose. I'm almost afraid she'll suffocate."

As he stared at his monitor, his eyes darted to another screen that had just began emitting a red light, his hand waving toward Lena as he spoke, "I've got a call; if you would, Lena."

Lena nodded as she began tracking Winston's readings, the primate clicking on the screen to a video call, his face growing dim as he watched the small window on the screen. Angela turned to watch, curiously, before returning to the arena below. A quiet groan came from Winston as he shut off the console, returning to his previous activity, though this time with a look of indifference, his mi d obviously on something else.

As the test ended, Fareeha headed toward the action chamber as Winston reached up to rub his eyes, sighing, catching Lena's attention as she finished up typing, "What's up, Winston? P.B. outta stock again?"

He shook his head, "No, but this situation in Ilios is growing more dire. The UN isn't making enough progress to actually be making a difference, and they're pressuring us for assistance."

He groaned again, "Of course, there's so many implications of us reassembling; I'm afraid that if we do so, there won't be any end, and I don't think we're prepared for that quite yet."

Angela sauntered over, dropping her cup into a trashcan, "What's going on?"

Winston shrugged, "There's a rebellion going on in Greece and a UN envoy went down in the heart of Ilios. The local militia took it as a military action and all this; basically the UN wants us to reassemble to pull the envoy out, but you know better than anybody what that entails."

Looking away, Angela nodded, "True. How many survivors are there; do you know?"

"Five died in the helicopter crash," Winston confirmed, pushing his glasses up as he watched his computer screen, "As of their last transmission, there were four remaining, but that was a few days ago; it could be any number now."

"I just don't know," Winston muttered, "I want to help; this is exactly why we exist to begin with, but…"

"How about just one independent operative?" spoke a voice down the hall.

The three turned to see Fareeha drying her hair with a towel as she approached them, "Instead of fighting your way through, just paratroop them out. You have the perfect soldier for that now."

Angela watched her skeptically as Winston stroked his chin, pondering, before turning to Lena, "Think you could manage a pick up of two people in the G-53, Trace?"

Lena smirked from ear to ear, "Like a mouse taking to cheese!"

Winston nodded as he returned to Fareeha, "Well, are you sure about it?"

Fareeha nodded as her eyes darted to and from Angela, "I mean, somebody's gotta help, right? It would help demonstrate my prowess as well, outside of counting casualties."

"Well," Winston shrugged, "I'll get in touch and check it out. Thank you, Fareeha! I can see it was no mistake to have you."

"If it works," she smiled lightly.

"I mean, they're rebels, not Talon Mercenaries, so I can't imagine it to be too difficult. Still, we'll ensure you're prepared."

Winston hurriedly gathered his things before exiting, leaving Angela to stomp toward Fareeha, hitting her in the shoulder, though it barely jostled her, "What do you think you're doing?!"

She shrugged, "What? There are people who need he-"

"I know!" Angela shouted through gritted teeth, "You're barely a week into this racket and you're already-"

Angela paused, turning slowly toward Lena, who watched the two, heavily confused, as her finger gingerly scratched at her cheek, forcing Fareeha to lean in for discretion, "I left in a good word for your side; I can get them out without violence. I told you before, I've been to Ilios before; there's not a building you can't easily scale."

Her lips twisting in thought, Angela stared away, crossing her arms, "And you think you're ready?"

Fareeha smirked, "I won't know what I'm made of until I get some experience out in the field, right? I mean, those robots are cool and all, but humans have to be harder hitters, right?"

Her thumb pointed over her shoulder, "Besides, my Raptora will keep me safe. Unless they've got a really good shot; and even then, it's only rebels, I guess."

Angela nodded slowly in agreement as Lena piped up while carrying a stack of binders back toward a back desk, "It'd be in a week or two anyway; plenty a' time to get prepared."

As Lena walked out of earshot, Fareeha leaned toward Angela's ear with a smirk, "Worried about me leaving already?"

"Kind of," she replied, pithily, "I'm neglecting my duties by remaining here, you know. Being your prisoner or whatever."

Fareeha winked as her posture returned upright, "Nah, you'd know it if you were my prisoner. Besides, since you're here still, I can initiate my surprise for you."

"Those two things aren't related, right?" Angela muttered quietly.

With a slight grin, Fareeha shook her head, "Not quite. Just a little something I cooked up; you should enjoy it."

Her eyes just flickered in Lena's direction for a split second, but Angela was adept enough to catch it, her mouth opening wide incredulously, "And Lena's invited too?!"

"It's just a little movie night between girls!" Fareeha explained, shrugging, "I figured she wouldn't want to be left out. Wouldn't that just mean she'll bother you more until you atone?"

Angela watched her skeptically before sighing, "I suppose. You do have a good noodle up there, I guess."

"Kept me alive this long," she winked, "Anyway, tonight at ten, my room. Come in your pajamas, and Lena and I will be providing the snacks, so pay no mind. What movies do you like?"

Angela began thinking, vacantly, as Fareeha went on herself, "I like a good action flick. 'Bad Tax', 'Nominator', y'know; but I'm all about dramas."

"Really?" Angela questioned, confused, "I wouldn't have pegged you as being into stuff like that. Action was right up your alley."

Fareeha blushed with a smile, scratching the back of her head, "W-Well, uh, to be honest, I may look like a brute, but I've long been quite the hopeless romantic to be honest."

"I wouldn't have guessed," Angela muttered sarcastically, leaving Fareeha with a goofy grin, "But to answer your question, I don't watch too many movies, though I suppose if I did, I would prefer dramas myself."

Fareeha watched her, surprisingly, which forced Angela to turn away, ashamedly, "-what?"

"Nothing," she smiled, "We're just going on, finding things in common."

"Just pick something that'll hold that girl's interest, please," Angela's eyes peered across the room, "I don't want any games of twenty questions."

"Can do."

"Nor do I want games of Truth or Dare."

"I'll make sure of it."

"Or, god forbid, Spin the Bottle."

Fareeha didn't much retort to that final stipulation, though only due to embarrassment, rather than defiance.

* * *

Fareeha nervously rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she kept her head low, her eyes shifting around the small convenience store as Lena eyed different selections of cheese with a hand pressed thoughtfully against her chin.

"Everybody's staring at me…" Fareeha muttered quietly, calling Lena's attention.

She spun around, "I dunno; I'd think we'd have plenty of large Egyptian women roaming around, or at least enough to make it normal."

Shrugging, she continued critiquing the cheeses, leaving Fareeha to remain as low as she could, giving that she was standing, staying quiet until Lena began speaking, more to herself, "I mean, _I'm_ here, after all."

"Huh?" Fareeha replied, confused.

Looking up, Lena thought of her words, "Oh, it's just that they're probably looking at me. I mean, I _am_ the girl with the whirly button on my chest, right?"

Fareeha eyed her suspiciously, "And it doesn't bother you?"

Lena giggled, "Gotta love an audience, right mate?"

She snickered as she leaned in closer, "Plus, I like to mess around with 'em sometime, at least the more dismissive ones. This one chap in a suit, one time, I managed to turn his whole coat inside out on him without him noticing!"

Fareeha grinned as Lena happily laughed along, tossing two different items into her basket, "Plus, it's never been exactly uncommon knowledge who was or wasn't in Overwatch. We liked stickin' under the radar, but I mean, you get on tape constantly. Lucky you; you haven't met such things yet!"

Lena turned to walk off, but paused as she cringed heavily, "Just, uh, don't go researching yourself too deeply, love."

"Oh," Fareeha shrugged, "I'd expect negative opinions; I haven't got a problem with that."

Lena groaned, "No, uh, I didn't mean-"

A loud clang of something falling into the basket interrupted her as Angela crossed another item off of her checklist, "There's the cake. I didn't even know they sold whole meals in a can; won't they kill someone?"

"Ha ha!" Lena laughed, "Good one! This place is amazing though, isn't it? You can find those things you pull a wand through and it sends those pinwheel-things flying!"

She happily roamed along with the other two following along as Angela reviewed the list, "I'm not surprised she loves a store where everything in 100 pence or less…"

Fareeha smiled, "I don't know; there's something loveable about how carefree is. Did she ever get serious?"

"What, in Overwatch?" Angela asked with a shrug, "Uh, if she did, she never showed it. She nearly died by passing through into time and space and smiled the whole way through; I don't think much of anything fazes the girl."

With a whip of ozone, Lena jumped down the aisle in a flash, papers and objects suddenly blasting down shelves behind her as she dropped a few bags of chips into the basket, turning around with dismay, "Oops. My bad!"

She hurriedly began to collect everything to straighten up, with Angela and Fareeha began to do as well, crouching down to pick everything up, leaving Angela to wonder, "You haven't gotten banned from anywhere for doing stuff like this?"

Lena giggled lightly, "I don't do it often; I'm just so excited! I haven't done anything this since… I don't know; elementary school? Even then, I was still a, what Emily calls, firecracker."

"I can see why," Fareeha laughed as she pushed different items back to where they belonged, "Oh, here's the, uh…manicure set?"

"Yeee-oink!" Lena shouted as she grabbed the box from her, "Perfect!"

Angela stared at her, "Wait, for the…thing?!"

Lena snickered, "Of course! Perfect for any sleepover, right?"

Angela sighed, though Fareeha took a more nervous turn, "Uh, I don't exactly do that kind of stuff, Tracer…"

"I'll learn ya!" she shouted before warping off again, leaving the others there to return the remaining products to the shelves.

"I'll never forgive you for this," Angela muttered quietly, straightening up a small display of paper cups.

Fareeha grinned, "It'll be fun, don't worry. We've picked up everything we need, assuming Lena is going to get the wine."

Angela's ears perked as she paused, which Fareeha noticed with a laugh, "I told you it wouldn't be bad."

"So what's the point of it all if you're allowing me to get sauced enough to, one, maybe, somehow, however unlikely, enjoy myself, and two, not be alone with me to get me into whatever situation you think you could push a drunk-me into?" Angela questioned aloud, "This isn't just for her benefit, is it?"

Laughing, Fareeha answered, "Believe it or not, I don't need an extravagant reason to do anything. I just wanted to spend time with everyone before we all started heading out and about. I mean, next time we're all together, we may be in Overwatch, right?"

"Not me," Angela reminded, though her words only resulted in a smile from Fareeha.

"True," she replied, "But I don't expect our next meeting to be anywhere near as far apart."

Angela turned to return to her activity, but also hid a blush, her hand nervously reaching up to her face, hoping Fareeha had turned away as well. In no time at all, however, she turned as a gentleman trudged down the aisle between them, walking hurriedly along. The two noticed his tie having been running down his back and they both shook their heads with a sigh.


	10. Atop the Ocean

A/N: I had a 900-word bit that preceded this part, but I thought it was out of place given everything else, so I latched it back onto the end of chapter nine, if you'd like to go back and see Tracer shenanigans in a convenience store.

* * *

The Raptora stood proudly in the large garage that had once housed a small collection of Overwatch's equipment loads that would ultimately be transported down the way toward either the flight hangar, or beyond that to the docks for maritime transport; an odd place, Fareeha though, to even exist in these times.

"Did anything even get shipped out of here?" she questioned as she reached up, her hands filled with various tools as she worked on her suit.

Behind her, sitting on the small staircase into the headquarters, Angela was sitting with a book as she looked up to answer, "Not often, but we had to prepare for any eventuality, especially down here. If it were Eichenwald or something, I mean, we could tunnel out if need be, but if somebody had disabled our ability to fly out of here, we'd have been screwed."

Fareeha nodded, "Huh."

"I know Talon has used similar methods in the past. EMPs, hacking into systems, sometimes while in-flight. Sometimes all you need is a good, old fashioned ship."

Fareeha eyed her suspiciously, but returned to her activity nonetheless, wiping off her forehead as she continued tinkering with the armor in front of her, "So, why did you decide to come out here? Too rowdy inside?"

Sighing, Angela answered as she lowered her head back into her book, "Lena's dashing around, preparing for tonight, and Winston is updating Athena with, what I can only assume is an operatic profile for when she needs some added drama, I suppose. You can't walk down a hallway in there without that loud voice nearly bursting the speakers."

"Ah ha," Fareeha chuckled, dexterously wrapping an arm around one of the armor's wings, nimbly grasping at a set of wires to pull them away from the pliers in her other hand.

"I mean, the view's not bad, either," Angela muttered quietly, not looking up.

Fareeha paused, now her turn to blush, and as she suddenly returned to work, it took on an extra speedy quality to it as she tried to get her mind off of Angela's words, though her eyes still peered downward, self-consciously. She's just worn a tank-top, expecting the heat of garage, with a pair of her sweat pants- she hadn't the slightest idea that it was anything to be stared at.

Her face warming up didn't help the heat either, causing her to wipe away the sweat from her head more frequently, until she finally managed to drop a socket wrench while doing so, her face dropping to examine it on the floor, unable to move with her hands busy holding equipment.

Without her speaking, she heard the slam of a book closing as Angela spoke up, "I got it; don't worry."

She sauntered over and picked it up, holding it in her hand without returning it, "Here, just give me what you don't need; I'll hold 'em for you."

Fareeha watched her, surprised, but dexterously dropped the tools into her hands without messing up what she was doing. She nodded in thanks as she nervously returned to her work, her tools quickly managing to find their way in and around the various parts of circuitry and wiring.

"So what exactly are you doing?" Angela wondered aloud, "I know technical stuff, but I've never seen a Raptora before."

Fareeha went on for a few moments before answering, as though in thought, "Uh, you'll see."

Angela looked up at her, "What is it for- You're not putting me in there, are you?!"

Smiling widely, Fareeha chuckled, "No, no. You'll see."

Angela's face grew a frown at being kept in the dark, but she remained helpful, her eyes curiously watching Fareeha's every move as she attempted to ascertain whatever it was she was doing. She began leaning over ever-so-slightly to get however of a better view she could, with Fareeha pushing her back as her body swayed toward her as she worked.

"You're not going to get anywhere by watching," Fareeha noted poignantly, "Even if you recognize something, I know how to do things just to throw you off. We had contests in the army; everybody was watching to see what I was doing."

"Because you were the best?" Angela asked.

"Uh, no; because I had the older dune buggy," Fareeha laughed nervously, "But I got it runner better than the newer models. When I became a Captain, I used to tinker around and shit at night, just so they'd be thrown for a loop the next day when they had to repair them."

She began laughing as she recounted her past, "Then they finally got wise and put them under guard with some Private keeping watch. I don't know; it was pretty fun when we weren't doing drills and stuff. You can only help one country in an army, though."

Shrugging, she pulled her hands away from her suit, grabbing a rag from over her shoulder to wipe her face off, "Not a day went by where I wasn't thinking about being a part of Overwatch. Every push-up, chin-up, gun-up; all for Overwatch."

"Gun-up?" Angela questioned, causing Fareeha to groan.

She shook her head, "They stick you in a low-ceilinged building with slit bars above you. They give you a rifle, you have to jump up and, in mid-air, get the rifle through the bars and turn it so you're just hanging there. Then you have to slide your way like that into the finish line."

She crouched down as though simply talking about it was exhausting, "I'd say I would show you, but that all's ridiculous. One guy hung there for so long, he passed out from lack of oxygen."

Angela stared at her, surprised at what she was recounting, but her face changed to shock once Fareeha addressed her, "What about you? They didn't have sit-ups in med. school, did they?"

"N-No," Angela stammered, hurriedly recalling her own history, "We had drills, though. They would bring in animal cadavers and we'd have to do transplants and stuff on the fly, which was a pain; but as Mr. Davisson said, if you can find a cat's liver, you can find any organ on a human."

Fareeha scoffed as she stood back up, "Oh really? What was your best time?"

"Uh…fifteen minutes."

"Really?" Fareeha questioned aloud.

Angela shrugged as her lips pursed, "School record. Beat the last guy by ten minutes."

Fareeha nodded, "I didn't set any records or anything, but I also didn't end up with a medical degree. That itself is impressive."

Angela turned away, "I guess. I often wonder how my time could have been better served. Back then, we were necessary, but now with implants and stuff, you can turn anybody into a capable enough surgeon. If not them, just nanobots, in general, can fix most issues."

"Isn't there a certain human discretion, though?" Fareeha wondered.

"I mean, yeah," Angela replied, more readily, "That's why I was brought on to Overwatch in the first place. A computer can make something of a triage system, but out in the field where seconds are on the line, you really need a brain to figure out who needs what more importantly than this person."

"That being said," she continued, "Most of what I do is enhanced by nano-tech and implants."

Fareeha turned to her, surprisingly, "Really?"

Angela nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets nervously, "Well, uh… Most of my body fluids are laced with microscopic nanomachines that can heal people…"

Fareeha stared at her for a long enough time to make her uncomfortable, "…what?"

"You know," Angela went on, "If I died or something, I could still be useful and help people. If my blood is pouring out, or if I'm dead, somebody can cut me open and heal themselves. Only Winston knows this, of course; I wouldn't tell anybody else. If necessary, he'd make it known in the line of fire, were I to…expire."

"You told me," Fareeha shrugged.

Sighing, Angela shrugged again, "Well, I mean…it's you."

She remained downturned, appearing like a lost schoolgirl as Fareeha watched her, a small smile slowly creeping across her face. The two stood there for a few moments before Fareeha hopped backward, throwing her rag over onto the workbench.

"Okay," she spoke up, excitedly, "Let's take this puppy out for a spin, shall we?"

Angela slowly looked up at her, "Didn't we already-"

A quick shake of the Fareeha's head stopped her as the soldier stepped back into the suit before it closed up around her, "You'll get to see what all I've done soon enough. We'll have to go out on the tarmac though, of course."

Angela watched her, confused, as she opened the large garage door, revealing the orange landscape that had materialized due to the sunset. Fareeha carefully removed the armor that surrounded her arms before she walked on out, without a helmet as well, waving for Angela to follow along.

"I don't have my Valkyrie suit on," Angela noted, though Fareeha only smiled.

"We didn't need it last time."

Embarrassed, now that she realized she was about to be carried again by this woman, Angela only slowly walked toward her, crossing her arms as her footsteps timidly strode across the cement. As she approached her, Fareeha reached out a hand, startling the doctor.

"May I?" she asked, gingerly, as though she were also embarrassed.

Slowly, Angela gave her hand, allowing herself to be led right in front of Fareeha, the two now face-to-face on the tarmac. Angela looked around, her eyes narrowing from the sunlight, but she ultimately turned back to the other.

"Where are we going?"

"Up."

Angela eyed her, but Fareeha lifted her hand high, Angela's eyes widening at the idea of being lifted up by her arm, but as she quickly looked down to the ground, she noticed Fareeha's large azure boots, one of which slid out toward her before she looked back up to see Fareeha's smiling face.

"Not too close, is it?" she asked, nervously.

Angela quickly shot her head back down, her foot just barely coming off the ground. Along with her hand, she suddenly felt Fareeha's other hand brushing against her opposing shoulder, as if guiding her along or holding her for balance once she got on. With a final mental tear away from her shell, Angela slowly moved her foot up and onto the boot, her other foot shaking gently as it followed along.

She lifted her head slowly, suddenly realizing just how close she was, now, to this woman, who looked down at her, "You're almost as tall as me now."

The doctor blushed, but at this proximity and level of surprise, she didn't bother hiding it, simply locking eyes with Fareeha as though already in the air and not wanting to look down, causing a grin from the taller of the two. Once Fareeha's arms wrapped around her back, Angela suddenly jumping in surprise, her arms trembling as they grabbed onto either side of the armor.

"It'll be fine," Fareeha' laughed, "We're not going up like last time, don't worry."

With a gentle whirring, her wings slowly emerged, the rocket packs within poking out, causing Angela to inch a bit closer. Instead of a sudden blast of explosive energy, the rocket packs began emitting a steady glow of flame, gradually strengthening until a sudden release of gravity alerted Angela that they were no longer on the ground.

"Much smoother this time around," Fareeha noted as she turned to examine her wings, "Looking good. You're not afraid of heights still, right?"

Angela quickly shook her head, "Heights? No. Heights and being this close to you in the air? Terrifying."

Fareeha grinned, "We'll get you untethered to the ground and then work on that other one, alright?"

Before Angela could reply, the Raptora roared to life as it lifted gradually into the sky while also drifting the two out to the ocean. Angela carefully made sure to keep her eyes glued to the suit in front of her, but as she grew accustomed to the concept of flight in such an unsecure settings, she began to look around more. She realized, quite readily, that she was anything but unsecure as Fareeha's arms locked around her body slightly tighter.

Stopping over the vast waters, Fareeha spoke up, "Bet you haven't seen the base like this, huh."

Angela's head bent to the side, looking past her flight, realizing the headquarters was behind her. Suddenly anxious again, she looked up at Fareeha.

"Guess you'll have to turn around," she grinned.

Shakenly, Angela looked down to figure out the logistics of such a thing. The pressure releasing from around her, she felt Fareeha's arms shift to her sides as her hands reached over to grasp her hands, gently lifting her up. Carefully, Angela managed to spin with Fareeha's help, her heels finding solid footing atop the same boots, though t was far less stable than before.

However, she couldn't help but admire the view from here, forgetting her shaky stability even as Fareeha's arms wrapped around her waist once again. Angela's eyes opened wide, the sun behind the two, as she stared at the large mountain that made up the tip of Gibralter, its mighty peak nearly alight with the sunset light upon it. In the distance, she turned to see the far-off peak that Africa provided to the Pillars; her place in the world feeling far more miniscule than before.

Despite that, here she was. A spec on this globe, alone, with another.

"Beautiful, huh?" Fareeha asked rhetorically, "The Pillars of Hercules. I had to read so much Greek as a child, it drove me nuts, but I couldn't help but get beyond these."

Angela slightly lowered her head in thought, "Just trying to get out into the world, huh?"

"Into the unknown," Fareeha clarified with a smile, "' _Non_ _plus ultra_ ', but if this moment in any indication…"

She paused, almost to see if Angela knew what she had said. Giving her head slowly turning backward so that their eyes could meet, she figured she had, leaving her with a quick smile.

"Everything is further beyond," Fareeha muttered quietly, staring into Angela's eyes, "Just right here. In my arms."

The two of them watched one other for what seemed like the longest time; two bodies hanging together over the vastness of the ocean, almost as one, if looked up from the proper angle. Surprisingly, it was Angela who broke the quiet tension that hung in the air around them.

"You've already taken me," she spoke, "Just kiss me already."

Fareeha didn't have time to grin as she lowered her head, their lips meeting as Angela leaned back against the chest of the armor, her waist in the arms of this woman as her lips were within hers as well.

As they came to a pause, gently pulling from one another as their eyes remained with one anothers', Fareeha lifted a hand to hold against Angela's cheek as her other arm remained, holding her tightly against her.

"You're so beautiful," Fareeha noted quietly, as though trying to keep even the ocean beneath them from hearing, "All I want is to keep you warm. Forever. Melt away that coldness, if only for my own viewing."

She paused, taking in the face that she'd come to adore, which was broken open in surprise by her words, "All I want is to be yours."

Angela blinked suddenly, breaking eye contact enough to give her a chance to look away slightly in thought, her words emerging emotionlessly, "When I was in Overwatch, I made my suit and named it Valkyrie. You know, the Norse gods that chose you would live or die on the battlefield, so I think I have a damn good idea of whom to choose or not to."

Fareeha's eyes watched her unsurely while her eyebrows lifted, almost expecting a saddened result from this, while Angela resumed, heatedly, "Of course I know to choose you, you dolt. You had to bring me all the way out here just to as-"

In a flurry, Fareeha broke a speed record in getting her lips down and back against Angela's, her hand returning to her waist once Angela's own lips proved that they weren't going anywhere as they hurriedly rushed back to join Fareeha's whenever she pulled away for air.

"You brought me all the way out here to show me the damned Pillars of Hercules," she spoke, angrily, in between small slices of kisses, "Your arms are the only pillars I need, idiot."

Fareeha failed to hide a laugh while their lips continued dancing atop of one another, their eyes closed so that there was nothing here but tender skin, the soft humming of exhaust, and endless ocean.


	11. Drunken Doctor, Sleeping Pilot

Fareeha and Angela made their way down the large hallway of the headquarters, slowly making their way down to the scene of their next adventure, which was only referred to as such because of the third in their company on this night. Fareeha had slowed to match Angela's pace who, obviously, wasn't in much of a hurry, though she could tell the doctor was a tad more out of it than normal.

"Are you ready?" she asked, eyeing Angela from the side, though her companion only turned with a smile, lifting up the bottle of wine she'd been clutching, allowing Fareeha to see it already somewhat empty.

She grinned slightly, "Well, I can't say you didn't come prepared."

Angela giggled, "I'm always prepared, darling."

Fareeha immediately stared forward to hide a blush, but Angela wasn't exactly beyond pointing such things out, and she poked the soldier's muscular arm, "Ya know you can't hide from me."

Despite her added care-free attitude, Angela turned downtrodden as she walked, sighing exasperatingly, "Why are we doing this? I don't want to spend the night with anyone other than you."

Fareeha smiled, "It's just for tonight; don't worry."

She reached over and wrapped an arm around Angela's shoulders, pulling her against her without causing her haggard steps to stumble, though it only caused Angela to lean her head against her body, attempting to fall asleep, which Fareeha was quick to notice.

"Hey!" she shouted, "You can't be a sleepy drunk; we've got stuff to do, remember?"

Angela shook her head under her arm, "Noooo~"

Sighing, Fareeha began walking faster so as to keep her partner active, which she took with great annoyance, clutching onto Fareeha's arm in case she'd fallen and needed to be dragged along.

Thankfully, they arrived at the room soon enough, and Fareeha carefully tucked Angela's hair behind her ears, fixing her bangs as though to make her more presentable, but the doctor only giggled again, "You're very pretty."

Fareeha groaned, shaking her head, "I don't need to be red in the face going in, you know."

"We should try and get acquainted enough, then, that it no longer has that effect," Angela muttered with a raised eyebrow, "Then I can have fun finding out what still makes you do it."

Fareeha sighed, simply reaching for the handle of her room's door, "Maybe some of Lena's energy will-"

Opening the door, the two found Lena on the floor, curled up with a stuffed animal with a disk menu looping again and again on the television screen. The two watched for a moment, more shocked than anything at the idea of this being actually capable of resting, before slowly creeping into the room and closing the door behind them.

"Hehe," Angela snickered, "Let's draw on her."

"Angela!" Fareeha shouted, surprised, "We can't just-"

Inching toward the defenseless girl, Angela smirked as she pulled a Sharpie from somewhere, but Fareeha was quick to stop her, removing the tool from her hand, "Or, you know, we could watch a movie?"

Angela groaned at her fun being prevented, but she acquiesced anyway, falling onto one of the pillows that had been placed on the floor atop miles and miles of streamers, undoubtedly strewn about by Lena in an amazing spectacle of energy earlier. Fareeha joined her on her own pillow, reaching for the controller.

"Okay, we have three different movies to watch, so you can deci-"

Turning, she found Angela curled up on the floor as well, taken in by sleep. While quickly realizing the disaster that this night had become, Fareeha couldn't help but be eased by the peacefulness that Angela exuded in her sleep. She had noticed it somewhat the last time she'd witnessed this, but now, possibly due to her inebriation, it exuded from her.

Still, Fareeha managed a sigh as she stood back up, making her way over to Lena so that she could pick her up and return her to her own room. As she did, her eyes opened for only a moment before closing again, surrendering herself to sleep amidst another sigh from Fareeha.

She carefully managed to inch her way out the door and began down the hallway, making sure to make wide enough turns as she rounded corners. Eventually, she noticed the shape of Winston, tinkering with some panel of the walls, rummaging through the endless circuitry that lined the walls.

"Hey Winston," she spoke up, catching his attention.

"FAREE-oh!" he shouted, pausing immediately upon noticing the near-lifeless body in her arms, "She mentioned your sleepover, though I kind of expected she'd exert all her energy prior to the actual event, the way she was so excited."

Fareeha grinned, "You should see the decorations she had out."

Winston snickered as he pulled his welders mask up over his head, "Yes, Tracer's a special thing. I'm happy you took to her so fast; she can turn a lot of people off with her high energy, but it's why she fits in so well with this crowd."

Fareeha nodded, "It's not a problem at all; she's a great person."

"Indeed!" Winston replied, "You know… I shouldn't tell you this, but…"

He checked down either hallway before continuing quietly, "Angela was the one who brought her onto the team."

"Really?!" Fareeha asked, shocked, which caused a chuckle from Winston.

"I know, right?" he went on, "So she may be how she is now, and I can't exactly blame her for it. But deep down, she loves her just as much as the rest of us."

As if a thought just popped into his head, Winston shot out, "Oh! By the way, the UN got back to me a while ago. They thought your plan was a great one, and will have us alerted to the exercise within the next day or two, so be prepared. We'll try to get you some tactical training, of course."

"Oh, excellent!" Fareeha spoke up, excitedly, before her mind went back to the woman sleeping on her floor.

Winston barely smiled, "I know everything that goes on here, you know. or, at least, Athena lets me in on what she knows. Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Of course!" Fareeha replied, "I've been preparing for this my whole life!"

Almost unsurely, Winston examined her with critiquing eyes, "Well, alright… I'll make sure Tracer'll be prepared, as well, for her role."

At the sound of her name mentioned in such a way, Lena's hand rose up, ghastly, into a salute, before falling lankily down toward the floor again. Winston chuckled as he pulled his mask back down over his face, turning to his work again.

"Have a good night," he finished, waving Fareeha off, "You'll need your rest."

Fareeha nodded as she walked along, carrying Lena the distance to her room. Her mind fluttered between the impending mission and Angela, each step like a cadence in between each thought. She was confident the mission would be a success, but that wasn't what worried her. Unsure of how Angela would take it, her mind wrestled with the idea of disappointing her in doing this. Still, she remembered, the whole plan was predicated on nobody being injured, at least not by her. She did find it interesting, though, just how much Angela's opinion of her had mattered now.

* * *

Fareeha slowly opened her door again, entering into darkness as she quietly shut the door behind her, turning to her bed in front of her. Angela had gotten up at some point to turn everything off and get into bed, curled up on Fareeha's side of the bed, her face buried in her pillow. Fareeha couldn't help a smile at the sight, much less due to the fact that she'd completely undressed and the sheets only ran up to her waist.

Quietly, she crept toward the bed herself, kicking off her shoes and pulling back the covers to get in herself. Her muscle memory was thrown off from this side of the bed, especially once she was laying down, staring up at a part of the ceiling she hadn't looked at, once, the entire time she'd been here. She turned to her side, seeing nothing, rather than where the bed should be, figuring out how to solve this issue.

Angela, who'd been traveling everywhere and anywhere, sleeping in beds of thousands of different results, could find comfort anywhere, and especially given her current state, probably wasn't aware that different people had different preferences for either side of the bed. Still, as Fareeha pondered on that idea, she turned to stare at her, and by extension, the proper spot on the bed. Her eyes narrowed alongside contorted lips, her mind quietly running from idea to idea.

Stirred awake, Angela's eyes opened slightly at the feeling of the mattress rumbling, and she slowly lifted her head to peer over her shoulder. However, at the last second, she found quite the darker, beautifully tanned, shoulder there, just as a powerful arm came up around her, wrapping around her nude body.

"You stole my spot," Fareeha grumbled quietly, "Not that I mind much when this is the result."

Angela yawned as her hand met Fareeha's, her head falling back into the pillow, "It smells like you though."

Fareeha sighed as she pushed her face in between her neck and shoulder, "You won't be able to tell the difference if this keeps up. So you should definitely give me my side back."

A giggle emerged from just beside her, "Maaaaybe next time. I can't exactly agree when it led me to this."

Although trapped in a corner, Fareeha couldn't exactly say she didn't agree with such an observation. Still, she felt quite slighted at being the one holding Angela again, though that was only because of the possibilities now open, due to Angela's agreeable state. She grinned as an idea popped into her head, holding back a snicker of her own.

She slid her other arm between Angela and the mattress, gently lifting her up to the slurred sounds of rejection from her, though she remained still, "Noooooo… I don't wannaaaa…"

Fareeha fell onto her back, pulling Angela atop of her, though she found the presence of elbow and shoulder against her torso to be rather uncomfortable, but Angela quickly reoriented herself, lifting herself just enough to turn slightly, falling slowing onto Fareeha's body, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"See?" Fareeha asked, "How's that?"

"Starchy," Angela complained sleepily, her head rubbing slightly against Fareeha's tank top, her hand emerging to just barely lift up toward the head of the bed.

Fareeha lifted herself, grasping her shirt with both arms and pulling it off of her, returning to the bed with Angela's head attached to her chest, happily so.

"Good," she muttered distantly.

Fareeha smiled as Angela fell asleep to the beating of her heart, keeping warm in the space between her breasts. She lifted her arms up to wrap around her sleeping body as her head turned to its side, the lovely weight atop of her keeping her in comfort.

Still, her mind was still conflicted from earlier- the revelation of this upcoming operation being a "go" weighing more on her mind than Angela weighed on her chest. Perhaps being on the wrong side of the bed was an excuse for not finding comfort, as she couldn't find it here either; her mind felt like a muscle that was unable to keep from stressing itself as she laid there.

"Angela…" she muttered aloud, despite there being only a subtle snoozing noise coming from her nose, "The, uh, mission was accepted."

She expected no reply, but still took the opportunity to, at least, practice, perhaps. She sighed in frustration at her inability to sleep, turning toward the clock beside the bed which read 02:13, the steadily increasing numbers almost teasing her. She closed her eyes, deciding to count sheep as an absolute, final resort.

Around fifteen, however, a slight voice emerged from atop of her, "When is it..?"

Fareeha's eyes darted open, though Angela hadn't moved from where she was. She sighed as her head returned to its side, staring off into the darkness as she attempted to come up with the proper words, but decided to stall instead.

"You're going to forget all this in the morning, right?" she asked, quietly.

"No," Angela sighed, "Those nanomachines I mentioned make getting drunk a chore, and a non-lasting condition. You saw the results- it mostly just puts me to sleep."

She groaned again, "Doesn't do much for the hangover though, other than making it come sooner…"

Fareeha smiled at her reaction as she continued, "I should have thought it through more, though I suppose helping people in need is a much healthier escape than alcohol. So when's this thing?"

"Within the next day or two," Fareeha noted, sadly.

Angela replied pithily, "Ah, yes; the old inconsistent and sudden start times. You'll have to get used to that, I suppose."

Fareeha lifted her head, staring down at Angela's scalp, "So you're okay with-"

"Never, in my years, did I want to be the one to crush dreams," Angela spoke up, a bit angrily, "I never, ever, wanted to be with somebody and tell them "no", so… I mean, your dream differs from mine, so what? Maybe you'll end up saving more lives with Overwatch than I ever could. I don't know."

Fareeha eyed her lightly, though she paused slightly before replying, "…what's your dream?"

Angela scoffed, " _My_ dream? Pfft, I'm far beyond dreams and imaginative whimsy."

She paused, and Fareeha made sure to give her time to mull over her words, which seemed to work as she started up again, "I mean, when I was a child, I wanted to be a singer, so I obviously am a bad judge of dreams."

"C'mon, anybody can be a singer these-"

"No," Angela shot back, "Like, an opera singer."

"Oh…" Fareeha concluded with a sad downturn of her head, though she suddenly began chuckling behind her closed mouth, rumbling underneath Angela, who quickly pulled her arms out to hold onto the mattress.

"Hey, Big Earl, you've got cargo up here, you know!" Angela spoke up loudly, her hangover forcing her brain to vibrate enough to pound at her skull.

Fareeha forced herself to stop, except for the occasional tremor, "S-Sorry! I just imagined you up there, trying to sing, and Lena giving you a standing ovation before the song even ends."

Angela didn't reply, except with a sigh, but Fareeha was sure she could feel a smile running across her skin. They remained quiet for a time, simply enjoying each other's' bodies; each other's warmth. Fareeha because of not knowing what to say, and Angela because of knowing she wouldn't be here soon enough.

Suddenly enough, quietly, Angela's voice broke through the silence, "Being with you is the only dream I need fulfilled."

Fareeha's eyes lowered, trying to find her without moving, but was unable to. Instead, her hand reached up, and held Angela's head against her, silently.

"Why?" Fareeha asked, genuinely confused, as a boyish grin appeared on her face, "If I had a nickel for everybody who was attracted to me, I'd-"

"Have the most important nickel of all, right?" Angela finished, cattily, which caused Fareeha to laugh lightly as she caught the eyes of Angela as her face appeared.

Angela didn't keep quiet for long before continuing, "You're gorgeous, your body is so warm; it's so strong, and yet, so soft. You wanted to protect me, not for any ideal or mission, but because you wanted to…"

She paused, not to think, but to ready her next words, "…and you see the best in me. Parts of me I'd had shuttered away; parts I didn't even want to believe I had left. All I had to do was see my reflection in your eyes, and there was the woman you saw."

"…and love," Fareeha noted, quietly.

Angela groaned, dropping her head back down onto Fareeha, "Ugh. I'm sorry I'm not as…you know…romantic as you are."

"Really?" muttered her partner, "I've caught enough glimpses. What, are you trying to get better or something?"

"Is it even something that's taught?" Angela sighed, obviously upset with herself.

Thinking, Fareeha hummed to herself behind closed lips, before nodding to herself, "Just try being yourself; I mean, half the stuff I say just happens to come from me. You're just a muse to me, I suppose."

Angela peered off, thoughtfully, "I mean, I'm just rather a- _muse_ -ing, I guess."

Fareeha grinned, "Just, you know, think of something. We've got time. Just say whatever comes to mind; it doesn't have to be an eloquent couplet or anything."

Angela sighed, thinking hard as she dug her face back into Fareeha's bosom, doing her best not to compliment something so superficial. Fareeha could only smirk at the effort she was putting into it; a sort of childish thing to work at to begin with, but she let her be. Finally, Angela's face slowly emerged, her face full of determination before melting into a solemn sincerity.

"You…complete me."

Fareeha snorted under her breath as she forced a laughter back into herself, "O-Okay; a tad cliché. Very cheesy, which I kind of like, but maybe something not spoken by an film action hero?"

Quietly, her voice shaking just slightly, Angela muttered, "You're the only action hero I need."

Smiling, Fareeha nodded, "There you go, love."

Angela, happy with herself, contentedly leaned her face down to kiss Fareeha's chest as her lover watched her deeply, as though looking through her, before the soldier lifted her head just enough to kiss her companion, pulling away just to speak up once again, "And heroes never die."

A slight pause before continuing, "I'll come back to you."

And then they were together. Those hours that had teased Fareeha now sped on ahead to frustrate her, wanting this night to go on forever. If they had to, neither of them would be able to recall how many seconds went by where their bodies weren't against the other, but they _could_ recall the moment they knew they loved one another.


	12. Rifts

As they had their first day here, Angela and Fareeha found themselves on opposite ends of that large pane of glass, Angela peering down as Fareeha made her rounds, going from checkpoint from checkpoint around the maze of walls, carefully hopping past the robotic soldiers that surrounded her. Despite her own ideals, Angela couldn't help but be horrified, even during this simulation, at every move Fareeha took. Her mind wandered- she could choose to lose her life rather than take another's, but could she make that same choice for another person?

Her eyes stared skeptically ahead, their being locked ahead only adding to her apprehension, which Winston had noticed before calling out to her, "Angela, you okay?"

She whipped around to him, waving a hand, "N-no, I'm fine. Sorry; I'm just a bit worried about the mission. I mean, it's her first one."

Winston chuckled, "You weren't so worried about Lena on her first excursion."

Sighing, Angela answered him, "I don't think we had time to be worried during King's Row…"

Lena giggled to herself from across the room, "Besides, it's not as if I can't warp back in time to heal myself. You wouldn't believe how often that becomes helpful; I actually trip a lot!"

"Yes, your long legs were sort of a problem in the Splitstream, I recall," Winston muttered aloud as he reached for a banana to chomp on, "In any case, Angela, if you'd like to get your mind off of this, would you mind running an errand for me? I'll need the reports from the UN on Ilios; they should have come in a while ago, but my hands are full."

"Full of fruit?" Angela remarked, though Winston only grinned as he took a bite.

She shrugged, realizing that just watching wasn't doing her any good. She slowly turned and began back toward the hallway that lead back to the offices, her head turning to stare out of the gigantic windows that shone out into the ocean, her mind recalling just yesterday, being out there, far beyond the grasp of any of these petty duties and ideals.

She sighed as she rounded the corner that led toward Winston's office, her finger dexterously poking at the various buttons of the keypad as if she hadn't missed a day at this base. There was no response, but a virtual screen suddenly appeared upon the door, the base's AI, Athena, coming up to examine the visitor.

"Hello, Mercy."

"That's Dr. Ziegler now, thanks."

A small burst of electricity audibly ran through the walls as Athena processed her words, finally whirring back to life, "My apologies, Dr. Ziegler. The Professor has informed me you were coming. Please, make yourself at home."

Angela nodded, "Thank you."

The door slid open, revealing a darkened room, which Angela carefully entered, watching her step, careful to avoid any banana peels that may have found their way onto the ground, as they often did whenever Winston was knee-deep in business. Angela was sure it was some sort of extra security measure, but hadn't ever verified it with the ape.

She flipped on the light switch and walked on toward the printer, checking to see if the report had emerged, though there was a stack of papers there, signifying that Winston hadn't collected these new reports in quite some time, possibly due to his workings with Pharah.

Angela picked up the first few pages to find that the report had been printed and began flipping through them all, trying to find the first page. As she came across the opening sheet, she pressed on to the next one, unaware of that fact, and suddenly noticed a sheet of paper with her name on it. For a moment, she stared at it curiously, knowing that, even if she were a member of Overwatch, this would still be a rather heinous thing to do. Still, she wasn't a member, and couldn't exactly be reprimanded.

She took the report, along with the bottom page of the stack, flipping it over to examine the memo that sat there, a transmission from Winston to Stuttgart, Germany- to the desk of one Reinhardt Wilhelm. Angela's eyes narrowed curiously; it appeared to be a correspondence between the two, beginning with Winston asking Reinhardt to escort Pharah to Gibralter, not having asked Angela yet, and having a backup in case she were to refuse.

The conversation went on with Reinhardt asking how Angela was, and Winston admitting that he didn't know; he hadn't heard from her in years either. But, then, Angela's eyes grew wide as she read on, her hands beginning to tremble.

Later on in the chain, Winston pointed out to Reinhardt that he'd already contacted Fareeha to let her know where to meet Angela, though there was one favor the man had had for Fareeha upon meeting up with the doctor.

Angela lowered the few sheets of paper as she stared at the desk, lifelessly, her heart dropping as if into that same ocean she had grown to symbolize as something so great that now seemed horrific. She turned back toward the door as if to make sure she hadn't been seen, looking back at the correspondence before dropping the sheet of paper onto the desk, not bothering to return it to where it should be.

She knew Winston would be made aware far sooner than would be allowed by returning to this room himself.

* * *

Winston jumped in his seat as a small stack of paperwork flew past him and onto his desk, his body quickly turning to see Angela stomping down toward the action chamber, his teeth exposing themselves in fright. He turned to Lena, who'd been watching as well, his brow upturned in confusion.

"Uh, any idea what happened?"

Lena shrugged, "Nuh uh. I just work here."

Winston groaned, his hand fiddling near the button that released the action chamber doors, wondering whether or not to allow Fareeha into that particular den of lions.

Before he could act, however, Angela's shouting voice carried all the way back to the control room, "OPEN!"

Instantly, Winston did as instructed, eyes wide in shock that he'd, more or less, simply been brainwashed to act on her behalf, though, as he shook his head, he only sighed at his realization, "There's a reason she was a one-woman army against most of the others on the team."

Lena leaned back to peer down the hallway, pensively, "I think Faheera's the one in trouble."

Winston groaned, "Then mercy won't be enough for her."

As Winston worked with puns, Angela stepped into the action chamber, though the door didn't close behind her, probably to avoid caging the two into some death struggle. Winston had seen enough of heated confrontation between members of Overwatch to know that fighting it out wasn't always the best option.

Angela stood in the chamber, her arms crossed as she waited for Pharah to arrive, her face almost in a snarl. Soon enough, the door she was facing slowly opened, revealing Pharah there, hunched over in exhaustion as she clutched the edge of the door and her knee, breathing heavily. She started in to take a seat, shocked to find Angela there.

"An…gela..?" she heaved, finding it improper to sit now, especially given her expression, "Are…you…"

"What is all of this?" Angela shot immediately, "What are we?"

Fareeha stared at her, confused, "Wh-… What..?"

"I saw Winston's memo, Fareeha," Angela clarified, "What, am I just a psychological examination for you? Was all this just to figure me out?"

Fareeha shook her head, trying to make sense of whatever Angela was saying, "Wait, what are you… Angela, they just wanted to know how you were doing and asked me to keep an eye out on our way here. It ended there, I swear."

Unconvinced, Angela watched her critiquingly, "Was all of this just a game to you?"

"No!" Fareeha shouted, walking up to Angela, but she stepped away, lowering craning her neck downward, causing Fareeha to pause, watching her pleadingly.

"What did you say about me?"

"Angela, it doesn't even mat-"

"What did you say?"

Fareeha sighed dramatically, her head falling backward as a hand held her forehead, "You want to know? I said that you were emotionally distant, seemingly due to your history with Overwatch and that you probably had little to no interest in returning. Okay? That's it."

Angela stared her down, "And what about there being no use in trying to bring me back?"

Fareeha blinked rapidly, dumbfounded by what was going on. Angela quickly whipped around at her silence and began toward the door, her feet pounding at the ground with every step. As she made her way down the hallway, Fareeha appeared behind her, still clad in her armor.

"Angela! I'm not letting you leave until I ex-"

She'd grabbed her arm, though, like a cobra, it had only resulted in Angela swooping around and slapping her in the face, Fareeha's eyes wide as she stared desperately at the woman she'd just shared a night with. She had looked so happy, yet now appeared so distant and sad. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she brought her hand into her chest to try and relieve the pain.

"I thought you, of all people…" Angela stammered, the tears finally growing too strong for her to finish.

She turned and continued on, though this time, Fareeha gave no chase. She simply watched her go off, her hand holding steady at her cheek. Just last night, the final time they'd touched, it had been a marvelous revelation of tenderness, yet now it only remained to be a hard, stinging pain at her cheek.

Fareeha turned and fell against the wall of the corridor, clutching her hair as she slid down, sitting there sadly, unsure of what to do. Everything she had been fighting for had just slipped through her fingers, leaving her alone; but more than that, it left her frightened. Not just for her future, but for her safety. If she had nobody to return to, what was stopping her from going too far out in the field?

* * *

Fareeha sat in one of the jumpseats of the Slipstream, her head hanging low as her hands clutched each other atop her head. She was early in getting here, but had nowhere else to be. She'd been ready to go, fully clad in armor, her rations in check, and her helmet on, and as she sat there, the hour passed by like an eternity.

The first sign of life was the clattering or airman boots, signifying Tracer's arrival, though it became more clear as a loud bang shook the hull, coming from Tracer slapping the top of the fuselage as she entered into the airship, shouting, "The cavalry's here!".

Her happiness quickly abated, however, as she noticed Fareeha sitting there, and she slowly approached her, crouching in front of her and clutching her knees for balance. She tried ducking lower to find her face, but between how dipped Fareeha's face was and her Anubis helmet, it proved impossible.

Tracer sighed, sadly, putting one of Fareeha's knees, "It'll be okay. Rough waters always calm eventually, y'know."

Fareeha remained still, but her voice did manage to break through, "Can we put this off by any chance?"

Sighing reluctantly, Tracer shook her head, "'fraid not. We're already breaking international law by even operating here; the UN had to have pulled some strings for this clearance."

Fareeha remained still as Tracer pushed herself back up, holding her fists to either side of her waist, her face animatedly lost in consideration as she went on, "Winston will call it off if you need to."

To this, Fareeha sighed, lifting herself until she was leaning back against the wall behind her, "No, I'll…go along with it. I'll do what I need to do afterward."

She closed her eyes for a moment, seeing Angela's niveous skin against her own, thinking to herself, "She'll understand…"

Tracer's voice broke through to her, the Brit's voice as calm and steady as Fareeha had ever heard it, "She'll understand, love."

Fareeha's eyes narrowed toward her, suspiciously, but Tracer only giggled as she playfully punched her shoulder, "C'mon, you can't have a sleepover without learning a few secrets. That, and if you're fancying a tumble, consider the traffic outside your door."

Fareeha's tan skin immediately blew up with redness as she turned away, trying to escape Tracer's low-key cackling, though she remained kind, pulling two fingers across her lips to signify her keeping the secret. Fareeha sighed, her shoulders dropping in relief.

"Now!" Tracer shouted, "New recruit! I, Tracer, hearby induct you into my aerial company! As always, such an occasion calls for some bubbly!"

She walked toward a small iron cabinet that had been constructed into the fuselage, pulling out two slender glasses along with a fancy bottle of wine, carefully pouring some out before sitting the bottle down and passing a glass to Fareeha. Although skeptical, Fareeha imitated Tracer as she lifted her glass, the two of them both chugging their beverages before Tracer gave a fanciful curtsy in celebration.

"Uh, should you be drinking before a flight?" Fareeha asked, sincerely.

Tracer shrugged with a mischievous grin, "Tsk, tsk!"

In a split second her body warped through the atmosphere, returning to the same exact collection of strides that had led her to the cabinet, though this time, she continued on toward the cockpit, giving a peace sigh over her shoulder as she entered, leaving Fareeha rather impressed by the whole event.

Suddenly, Winston's voice cackled in the air through a speaker, "Alright, operati-, er, people who just happen to be on the other end of this signal… Uh, I guess we're going for a pleasure flight. If anything should go wrong, uh, I have no problem calling you back here to land, got that?"

Tracer flipped a switch before speaking, "Gotcha, buddy! Over!"

"OH! Yes, uh, over. I, uh, mean… Never mind. Just keep your eyes out; any dangerous stuff and I won't hesitate calling you back."

Tracer turned back in her pilots seat, winking at Pharah before speaking, "And where exactly are we supposed to return to?"

An audible grumbling came over the loudspeaker as Tracer giggled silently to herself, the voice of Winston groaning back to life, "Uh… Lena Field?"

Tracer burst out laughing, grasping onto the wheel of the sleek jet, "I'm just busting your chops! We'll make sure to bring home the bacon!"

She shut off the comm. unit and finished giggling to herself as the Slipstream began whirring to life, "He's good fun on these secret missions! Can't leave a paper trail, y'know."

Pharah nodded, appreciative of Tracer's attempts at cheering her up, though she still couldn't help but feel down. She strapped on the two belts that lined either side of her seat, turning toward the cockpit to look out the windshield, her eyes growing wide in shock.

She saw the runway, but without even moving, it began warping away, distorting, almost as if time and space were being bending right in front of her. Tracer and the cockpit began stretching forward, almost as though turning into jelly, when suddenly, with a gigantic burst of energy, the jet burst through the ozone, nearly throwing Pharah toward the back of the ship so fast she immediately thought the straps around her torso would tear at the seams.

For a split second, she recalled this very aircraft forcing Lena into a state between time and space itself, and in that second, she almost felt herself being torn between the two. Surely this girl was mad, evidences by the whooping and joyous hollering that Pharah could tell was Tracer's, but instead of being just a few feet away, it was as though she was hearing through a stirring straw.

It wasn't the mission that would kill her, she figured, horrified.


	13. Pharah's First Mission

Angela hadn't gone far, even if her cutoff of communication had given the impression otherwise. With the only pilot gone, there weren't many options for her anyway; though, by now, she remained hidden more out of shame than anything else. While she was indeed upset by everything that had occurred, she had begun to put the pieces back together.

She had been a part of enough conspiring when she was actually involved with Overwatch, and given that she was no longer a part of the team, it really shouldn't have come to a surprise that it might have continued. She had always considered it a sort of compliment, that her ideals were so strong and her views so powerful that the others would be forced to go behind her back.

She had curled up with herself within the labyrinthine crossways above the hangar, hiding from any prying eyes, even if she knew full-well that the most prying of eyes here had undoubtedly found her out immediately. Inevitably, the deep, grumbly voice of Winston broke the air as his feet lightly stomped into the hanger.

"Hey, uh, Athena was sure to let me know you were in here," he muttered aloud, a slight nervousness to his voice, "If you like hiding, I suggest not stepping over the energy siphons; Athena's to alert me to any tampering."

Hoping for a laugh, and not finding one, Winston unsurely pattered about, "Look, I apologize for being so, I guess, underhanded. I couldn't have guessed you would have stuck around long; I guess the longer you stayed, the more entangled the situation became."

Angela's voice lightly came about, causing Winston's ears to flutter lightly, "I haven't exactly been used to people."

Chuckling, Winston nodded as he turned to where her voice had come from, "Yes, and despite our peacekeeping persona, I know we're not exactly the easiest people to get used to."

He sighed, rubbing his face as though not wanting to continue on, though he did anyway, "You know that she's not Torby, or her mother for that matter, right?"

A loud enough sigh came from above him as Angela groaned, "That's what I've been spending four hours sitting here trying to come to terms with, so yes."

Winston grinned, "You could have fooled me. Not only did I hear that hit; I played it back and it easily could have been meant for one of those two."

He couldn't see, but Angela's head sunk farther down her legs as she pulled them closer to herself. Finding her silence an indication of her falling back into sadness, Winston grabbed at a nearby support beam, lifting himself up and into the rafters, finally making it up onto the crossways that he'd figured Angela was on. He didn't have to walk far before finding her in a corner, halfway surrounded by boxes, shaking with tearful regret.

"Oh, come now," Winston spoke softly as he approached her, sitting beside her and pulling her over into him, "This place has seen far too many tears."

Angela wiped away her face with her sleeve, "I told her I wouldn't be easy; but she just…"

Winston couldn't help but chuckle lightly, "As I recall, you mentioned something similar your first day here. You got up, all haughty like, placing your fist on the table, "You guys aren't going to like me when I say what needs to be said, and I won't like you all, but at the end of the day, we have a common goal!" or something like that."

Angela laughed lightly through her tears at his impression of her, "I like to think I made some sort of difference. You can't espouse peace while rampantly destroying omnics or killing humans."

"We all had that in mind," Winston assured, "Just not as powerfully as you did. And if I recall, again, Fareeha was performing her preparations as though violence wasn't allowed."

He patted her on the back, gently, "You've made a difference for one person, at least."

Angela sighed, covering her face with her hands, "How much do you know..?"

Winston laughed, "Well, you can't have an all-seeing AI and not be all-seeing yourself. If you didn't want to be noticed, you shouldn't have made so much noise so late; Athena alerts me to any noises made when dark rolls around."

Now embarrassed, Angela made sure to remain hidden as Winston chuckled again, pulling out his small communication device, "Speaking of…"

He pushed at a few buttons before his face contorted in confusion, "Huh…"

Continuing on through his newer files, Angela couldn't help but become curious, lifting her head and watching him, concerned, as he muttered to himself. Finally, he spoke out loud, his confusion pouring out into his voice.

"Athena, this report must be old. The UN didn't report any Talon activity in their briefing on Ilios."

Angela's eyes grew wider as Athena came to life, her monotonous voice breaking into the air, "Preliminary checkups on the Splitstream indicate 9% of code in the communication systems stemming from Talon systems, still under the necessary threshold of 10% needed for alerts."

Winston turned to Angela as he stood up, trying to keep an even voice, "Okay, uh, I'm not about to risk anything, all things considered. I'll contact Tracer and-"

"Alert," Athena spoke lifelessly, resulting in Winston's face dropping with a sigh, "Splitstream communications disrupted. Attempting to reconnect."

Winston jumped down onto the ground, his weight crashing into the concrete as he began back toward his computer, Angela's voice just catching him, "How long will it take to quarantine the virus?"

Winston thought quickly as Angela carefully hopped off of a large container, joining him on the ground, "Uh, maybe two hours? At the earliest? It just depends."

"I can get there in one," Angela spoke up, catching Winston off guard.

"Wait, you-"

"I'll take the G-53," she went on, "If I get close enough, I can get word to Tracer and offer support for Pharah if she needs it. For such a petty conflict to have Talon operatives involved, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they're using it as a trap."

Winston sighed, shaking his head, "I can't allow you to do anything when you're not my responsibi-"

"I'll come back on," Angela spoke, heatedly, with a serious air coming from her piercing eyes, "I'll join again."

Watching her just as seriously, Winston replied instantly, "Valkyrie Mk. II is where you left her. Same rules apply."

Angela nodded as she started running up the embankment toward the headquarters, sliding to a stop as Winston shouted out at her, "Hey! Rookies need an escort!"

She whipped around, shooting a stare at him that was as sarcastic as it was malicious, giving Winston a nervous grin, "Kidding! Kidding."

As she ran off, he rubbed the scruff of his neck, eyes closed in meditation. He began again toward his office, sitting there in his whirly seat, undoing the clearances needed to board the G-53 as he shook his head, still surprised by Angela's request. Still, he had a job to do, his fingers suddenly firing like pistons against his keyboard.

* * *

Pharah stood at the open door of the Splitstream, her arms outstretched to brace herself against either wall as she stared down toward the Greek landscape beneath her. The wind whipped at her ears, and even with Tracer shouting loudly, it took some concentration to fully understand her.

The plan was a simple "drop and pop", as Tracer put it: Pharah was to drop in, hopefully on top of the UN envoy's location, secure a single soldier, and then pop back into the air where Tracer would recover the extricated soldier. The problem, however, was the Splitstream's speed, which allowed it to avoid any anti-aircraft fire, though also made it incredibly difficult to sync up Pharah's rocket bursts.

Still, Pharah was sure the plan would work, and she confidently peered ahead through narrow eyes. Tracer would fly in circles around the extraction point, and as she made another round, she lifted an arm, revealing a thumbs up, and Pharah hopped out, the air suddenly licking at her entire body, furiously. She focused her thrusters to keep her level, though she didn't have to worry about her speed; her legs were fitted with enough compression material to make most any sudden drops a lot less dangerous for both her and the ground beneath her.

As she reached the ground, she turned up the thrusters at her torso, swinging her legs down and underneath her, and as she slammed into the ground, kneeling down, she leaned forward, catching her balance as she breathed deep, eyes wide in shock that it had actually worked.

Tracer's voice crackled in her helmet, "You're just off the extraction point. Head due east; I've let them know you're coming."

Pharah silently acknowledged the report by nodding and began running to the correct location, careful to keep an eye out for any hostiles. At every corner, she'd crouch down, back against the wall, as she slowly peered around before running off again, between the shining white architecture of the city.

Finally, she arrived, her eyes open wide at the condition of the soldiers there. The ones that were actually standing were sparse, and the ones laying down could easily be taken as the same as those no longer alive. She walked patiently toward the barricade that had been erected, the single soldier guarding the post turning to report to somebody else behind him.

They had taken shelter in an old warehouse against the coastal cliffs, giving them far less of an angle to defend. While Pharah couldn't see any rebels, or nationals for that matter, she figured they couldn't be too far off, probably off on their own quarrels. Still, she kept an eye out until the guard waved to behind the barricade, the dumpster that had been serving as a gate being pulled away from the other piles of furniture, sheetrock, and other torn pieces of infrastructure.

As she squeezed her way through, Pharah was caught by the man in charge, suddenly wrapping his arms around her and burying his head into her armor, tearing up at the sight of help, his croaking voice eeking out in quiet Greek, "[Finally, God has answered our prayers]!"

As he wept, Pharah looked on, watching the other soldiers watching her with extreme reverence, even the ones laying near-death on the ground doing their best to present themselves with respect toward her, various chatterings flying through the air in whispers.

"Βασίλισσα πυραύλων…"

"πάνω από παρακολουθώ…"

Pharah couldn't quite make out all of it, her Greek a tad rusty, but thankfully, another soldier approached the two of them, patting the crying man on the shoulder before helping him away from Pharah, whispering something in his ear, probably a reminder not to do such things, and the man tried his best to compose himself.

"My apologies," the man spoke with a think accent, "He'z not 'xactly, eh… our cha'n of comman' haz been, er, dezimated?"

Pharah nodded slowly in understanding, "I understand. Look, the injured ones, can they stand?"

Instead of answering, the translator waved her along to follow, along with the man in charge, the three careful to avoid stepping over the few dead bodies they came across, the leader pulling his coat up tighter onto his shoulders, shiffling to clear his airway, "[We were simply attempting to transport supplies, and went down. We had very few guns and very little medical supplies. I suppose both sides saw our crashing as a hostile act; they've both been taking pot-shots outside of killing each other]."

He wiped his face before covering it with his arm, avoiding the stench coming from the warehouse as they entered, "[The worse ones have] γάγγραινα [but they should be okay for extraction]."

Pharah couldn't understand the word, but figured it was better not knowing. Instead, she knelt down to one of the men who could only stare up at her in a delirium, her face softening into sadness. She pulled off her helmet, suddenly afraid of what her Anubis head could be implying, and reached down to check the man's pulse.

"[Okay]," she began in rough Greek, "[We'll need a, uh…]"

She turned to the translator, "You know 'triage'?"

The man nodded, clearing his throat as he turned to his commander, "eh… διαλογή ασθενών?"

As if understanding, the man nodded rapidly, snapping his fingers toward a group of others, giving instructions as Pharah patted the shoulder of the man on the ground, "[Can you stand]?"

His eyes closed, his head just barely shaking, "[I'm done. Leave me for the others]."

Watching him his intense eyes, Pharah couldn't help but think back to something Angela had said before. She winced at the thought, but knelt further down, grasping at the man who was unable to struggle he was so weak.

"[You don't know me]," she spoke, commandingly, "[We're getting you out]."

She walked out, carefully, into the small square outside the warehouse, clicking on her communicator, "Tracer, you coming?"

"T-minus fifteen seconds!"

Quickly, Pharah turned to the two men, nodding confidently, "[Weakest first. I'll come back for the rest]."

The two looked confused, the translator stammering, "W-Where…you go?!"

Pharah grinned as her rockets suddenly burst into an explosive cavalcade of flame, her body moving so fast upward she could have easily vanished if not for the trail of light smoke she left behind, the exhaust needed to ascend high enough for the Splitstream.

Tracer came in hot, sure to slow steadily as she approached Pharah's location. Catching just a glimpse of azure blue bursting through the sky, her hand moved over above a large purple button, eye narrowing as she squeezed her tongue between her lips, focusing greatly as the Splitstream, in a split second, froze in space as her hand pushed down on the button.

Pharah's leap concluding, she viciously grabbed onto the railings around the door as Tracer rushed to the interior side, ripping the door open and helping get the soldier into the craft, her eyes watching Pharah with worry.

"One down," Pharah panted, her voice as shallow as her eyes looked.

Grimly, Tracer replied, "Just be careful. We've got nothing but time."

Pharah nodded slowly before letting go, acrobatically flipping backwards as she descended back down to the ground below, leaving Tracer with a worried expression as she began securing the soldier now in her care. After doing so, she made her way back to her seat, her hand nervously rubbing her chin as she gently pressed the same button, the Splitstream not evaporating into the stratosphere, its movement restored.


	14. A Sinister Sabotage

This went on for a good couple of hours, with very little rest coming to Pharah, who preferred to complete the mission as soon as possible, if only to ensure help would come soon as well for the injured. Every time she returned to secure another person, she remained hanging there, longer and longer, attempting to catch her breath, the only relief coming when she fell back to earth, and even then, hitting the ground required her mind to be strenuously alert.

Now that all the personnel who'd been subjected to the ground had been extracted, leaving only a handful of somewhat-able bodied men left, Pharah stumbled toward a wall, leaning on it until she felt sure enough to slide down to sit, her legs feeling like gelatin from the repeated descents.

Concerned, the man in charge, who'd she know knew to be named Alexios, watched her as he called for some refreshment, bringing over a small canister of water to offer to her, "[You've done plenty enough for us, ma'am, helping our wounded. The rest of us can-]"

Pharah shook her head as she heaved for oxygen, "[That's not where my objective ends, though I appreciate your generosity]."

Alexios sighed in resignation, shaking his head as well as he sat beside her, pulling out a small knapsack that even Pharah had noticed he refused to part with at any point in time. He pulled it onto his lap and began rummaging through it as if trying to find something.

"[When we took off, I was fifth down the chain. Now I _am_ the chain]," he sighed, pulling out a handful of the shreds of paper, jewelry, and other tiny objects that came from the small bag, "[Pocket litter. I made sure to begin to collect it from those who died; perhaps it'll lead to some solace for their families. I'll look through it on some nights after the fighting stops and see ticket stubs from date nights, or an earring from somebody's beloved. Somewhere in here is a shriveled rose petal, but everything gets so lost, I don't usually…find it…again]."

He lifted his arm to his face to hide his welling tears, his other hand dumping the litter back into the small knapsack, beginning to close it back up, "[If you don't mind taking this along next, I- …it would be worth many lives recovered]."

Alexios slowly moved it toward Pharah, who took it from him, her downturned eyes slowly turning toward him, "[I'll make sure it gets back for you]."

He nodded appreciatively, wiping away his face again, "[Whatever happens, make sure I get out last. If anybody has to die still, it may as well be tradition, now, that it's me]."

Pharah sighed, annoyed at the level of pessimism she continued to encounter, her voice firing back with a low grumble, "[I told you already; we're getting everybody out of here. You included]."

Alexios chuckled lightly, "[Ever the idealist, eh. The tighter you cling to the idea that you can protect everybody, the harder blow you'll get when you finally realize that you cannot. I admire your spirit, rocket queen, but I know what I know. I only pray you have the wherewithal to-"

Suddenly interrupted, Alexios cringed at the high-pitched whining that came from Pharah's communication unit, causing her to shout out in pain as she hurriedly threw off her helmet. As the interference stopped, she reached for it again, holding it to her ear.

"Tracer?" she asked, but to no response, "Tracer?!"

She jumped to her feet, running out to the small roadway just outside that ran down the length of the cliffs, watching up into the sky as Alexios followed along. Just faintly, she could see Tracer proceeding along course, but with no coordination, it would be unimaginably difficult to extricate anybody at this point.

Pharah growled unhappily, turning to Alexios, "Who's next?"

The man fumbled through his pocket, finding the list he had chicken-scratched onto a charred magazine cover, "Uh…uh… Marinos!"

He ran off to find him as he shouted his name, Pharah still fiddling with her comm. unit, but to no avail. Even she knew that such systems do not fail, especially during missions, unless willed to, and that thought worried her, especially since she knew the local forces had no way to cut off Overwatch's systems, especially.

Finally, Alexios arrived, more so dragging Marinos along, allowing Pharah to grab a hold of him as she eyed the Splitstream's oncoming course, Marinos apprehensively making the sign of the cross as he shut his eyes tightly. Before Alexios could send him off, a loud burst of firepower went off like cannons, signaling the fact that the man was gone.

Pharah flew through the air, her eyes more focused than they had been, carefully watching the Splitstream's trajectory. Their lack of communication was evident; by the time the craft paused in mid-air, Pharah was a good arm's length away from the railing, just barely able to grasp on with a painful gasp at the amount of weight being help up by a single arm.

Tracer quickly shot out, kneeling and helping Marinos up before doing the same for Pharah, pulling her into the aircraft. Nearly falling head-first into the titanium plating beneath her, Pharah managed to sit down, clutching her arm as Tracer paced back and forth, worriedly.

"What happened to our communications?" Pharah asked, cringing.

Tracer shouted in a quick and terrified voice, "I don't know! I can't get back to HQ to ask! This wasn't supposed to happen, I…"

She covered her face as if to hide, but Pharah spoke up authoritatively, "Okay, well you're the senior officer here; what do we do?"

Tracer clutched at her hair stressfully, "I-I don't know!"

Quickly, Pharah grasped at her leg, which was all she could reach, trying to calm her with a softer voice, "Tracer, listen. We have two options. Continue the mission, or head back to HQ and regroup. If you go back, I'm staying; I'm not leaving them alone."

Tracer pulled her arms down, staring at Pharah, knowing that, at this point, she was responsible for her, "What?!"

Pharah grunted back, "I'm not leaving them. It this whole thing is a malicious thing, or a trap, I'm not leaving them to fight alone; they barely have more than a pitchfork for weaponry."

Tracer shivered in fear, but stammered along, "H-How many of them are left?"

"Three."

Calming down slightly now, Tracer took a breath, holding her hands together on top of her head to get more breaths in, "O-Okay. I'm not going to leave you without support. We'll play the cards we're dealt; we've been going along fast as it is."

She quickly turned to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a box, "Shoot these flares when you're nearing your apex and I'll try my best to sync up, got it?"

Pharah nodded, pulling the strap of the knapsack over her head to exchange with Tracer, "Keep that safe, okay?"

Tracer stared at it critiquingly, "What is it?"

"I'll tell you after the mission," Pharah assured her as she worked her way back up toward the door, giving a weak salute as she fell out of the craft, leaving Tracer with a disdainfully worrisome face as she made her way back to the front of the ship.

By the time Pharah made it back down, Alexios and the translator, Kostya, had already gone to fetch the third man down there, giving Pharah some relief at not being seen. She knelt there, staying until she fell forward, just braving herself with her hands as she stayed there as long as she could. Her legs felt like massive weights, ready to burst and break free from the tendons in her hips.

She returned to standing just as they returned, Kostya exasperatingly speaking up, as he had whenever he was near whenever she left, "Z'ank you!"

Pharah didn't reply as she took a hold of this last soldier, crouching down to prepare for liftoff, just barely launching herself off before collapsing onto the ground. She smiled into the atmosphere, eyeing the Splitstream screaming toward her. Whipping out the flare, she fired it, the aircraft stopping a lot closer than it had last time.

Pharah clutched onto the railings, unable to do anything but hang there. Once Tracer arrived, she managed to pull the soldier into the ship, leaving Pharah there, staring vacantly into the side of the ship. Her eyes narrowed with determination, feeling a ripple of ozone crawling up the back of her neck.

Suddenly, a blast of laser blew past her head, an loud pop of explosion bursting from her shoulder as her hand let go, leaving her dangling there with one hand, staring up at the charred spot on the ship, her eyes wide in shock.

"Pulse rifles reload in 3.753-"

She pulled her legs up, her feet forcefully pushing off against the fuselage, launching her downward as another shot of plasma burst past her, hitting the side of the ship. Tracer hurriedly shut the door, pacing side to side.

"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmig-"

She spun around at the sudden crackle of the old radio system that sat in the back of the vessel. She ran toward it, hopping over the bodies that now lined the ship, warping around others, as she fell toward the desk, throwing the various papers and equipment off the table, finally stumbling across the microphone, grasping the earphone and holding it to her ear.

"…-cer….he-….."

Tracer could hear Angela's faint voice on the other end, nearly in a panic as it started coming in clearer and clearer, the doctor's voice finally breaking though enough to gain coherence, "Tracer? Are you the-"

"ANGELAITSNUTSTHEREARESHOTSFIREDBUTIWASNTBREIFEDONTHISBEINGAPOSSIBIL-"

"T-Trace-!"

"WEVEALMOSTGOTEVERYONEBUTHTECOMUNITSDOWNANDWECANTGETBACKTOWHEREWERE'"

"Tracer!"

Finally, the ear-piecing screeching of feedback droned through Tracer's headset, causing her to drop the headphone in shock, slowly returning it to her ear, cautiously, as Angela spoke calmly, "Okay, now then… I know Talon has at least one oper-"

"TALON?!" Tracer shrieked, surprised, as Angela groaned.

"Yes; it was their code that ruined the Splitstream's communication systems, probably so you couldn't report back for reinforcements. Well, here I am."

Tracer scrutinized the titanium wall in front of her, silently, before muttering back into the microphone, "Wait, what?"

"I'm here to help!" Angela replied, "You need to head back and get the virus quarantined; I'll be support until you get back."

Again, Tracer went silent, until her voice returned, seriously, "What does that mean?"

A curse was barely audible from under Angela's breath as she sighed, her voice going silent until, finally, it reemerged, "Uh… The cavalry's here…"

"YEAH!" Tracer shouted happily, bursting back toward the cockpit, the Splitstream warping through space as she began to blast off.

Angela groaned, carefully bringing her own craft dangerously close to the cliff walls so as to avoid being detected on radar. Her fingers clicked on and off the comm. unit, trying desperately to contact Pharah. Slowly, she pulled back on her controls, the ship just peeking over the clifftops, allowing her a small view of Ilios at this level, her eyes carefully scanning the landscape, though she couldn't see anything. Lowering her body to the side, she reached for the comm. unit without her eyes breaking concentration.


	15. Death Arrives

Alexios carefully sat Pharah down after he and Kostya had helped her back into the warehouse, quickly, having also heard the firing of a rifle. Kostya had made sure to look out after the first shot, and had noticed something that resembled pulse rifle fire coming from a specific building across the plaza.

"Talon…" he muttered in English, shaking his head, "[If that's the case, it's probably useless to try and spot their sniper]."

Alexios more or less ignored him, instead examining Pharah's legs, a difficult task to perform on an armored person, "[How are you holding up]?"

Cringing at the pressure building in her muscles, Pharah grunted aloud, quietly, "[I don't know]."

The man sighed, shaking his head, "[They certainly don't make them so damn stubborn these days.]"

"[I'll take that as a compliment,]" Pharah grinned, "[It's kept me alive this long.]"

Alexios shrugged, "[It'll get you killed, too.]"

He spun to his back, sitting against the wall and waving Kostya over to join them, "[Come on; we'll be fine for now.]"

The translator sighed in resignation as he made his way over toward the other two, taking a seat as Alexios went on, "[I was so far down the line, I can't say I had much of any experience, but I did learn from those above me, especially once I realized how dire this situation was becoming.]"

He rubbed his hands before crossing his arms, holding his hands in between them and his torso to warm them, "[Tell me this…Pharah. You're so devoted to protecting everybody you can; would you sacrifice one soldier to avoid risking the lives of all of them?]"

Pharah smirked, patting her leg, "[Aren't I already doing so?]"

Alexios chuckled, shaking his head, "[Not what I meant, but once again, you've trumped me.]"

The man sighed as he stood up, clutching his jaw in thought, looking toward the front two doors of the warehouse. Kostya watched him pensively, his eyes studying his commander's demeanor. It seemed to have darkened somehow.

"[I'll take care of it]," Pharah spoke up, "[It's only one more trip down]."

Without moving Alexios replied gruffly, "[Even I can see that you won't make it down here again]."

Pharah eyed him defiantly, but her deep breathing diminished the effect, "[We're getting out of here. The first step towards failure is admitting de-]"

She paused as Alexios lowered his shoulders, allowing his jacket to slide off, down his arms with a sigh. He carefully pulled it around to his front, holding it up at the collar while his other hand did its best to wipe off the dirt that had accumulated on it.

"Kostya," he spoke up, his counterpart now beginning to step back in worry.

"[S-Sir, I'm not about to-]"

"Kostya!" Alexios spoke up into a roar, definitely surprising the two with how uncharacteristic it was, "[This is an order! Come forward.]"

Kostya turned slightly to eye Pharah for some reassurance of something in his mind, but she only remained watching the commander as the man turned toward his translator, a calmer voice coming out now, "[Please…friend.]"

Sighing, Kostya stepped forward, slowly, "[Sir, I'm not comfortable taking your command-]"

"[There is no command for you to take, my friend]" Alexios replied, avoiding the confused stare that Pharah was giving him, "[There is only the command that is vacant, upon which you're next in line, no?]"

Pharah quickly began to stand, but the weight upon her legs suddenly collapsed onto the ground, forcing her to pull herself around on her arms, crawling forward as she shouted angrily, "Alexios!"

The commander tossed his coat to Kostya, who accepted it reverently, clutching it to his chest as he realized what was happening, "[C-Commander!]"

Kostya dropped the coat, throwing himself at his superior as the man pulled a pistol out from behind him. With a loud this, the two men went crashing into the ground, Kostya desperately trying to wrestle away the gun.

"[We're getting out of here, sir!]" shouted the translator as Alexios began hitting him to push him off so that his arm could be freed.

"[I will not be responsible for more lives lost than have already occurred!]" Alexios shouted back angrily, his command having gone ignored.

Pharah desperately clawed her way toward them, her shallow breaths rapidly increasing with every ounce forward, her eyes wide, shooting a determined glare toward the two men.

Alexios finally managed to kick his knee up into the stomach of Kostya, forcing the man to the side in pain as he whipped his gun toward his head, Kostya frozen in terror as he watched, clutching his stomach, "[Much less the life of somebody who saved so many of my men. Something I could not do.]"

"ALEXI-"

Before Pharah could continue pleading, a deafening crash of air broke into the two's ears, Alexios' arm falling onto the ground. Pharah watched in horror, her torso falling against the ground as her fist began smashing into the concrete below her, tears welling up in an angry sadness. Her voice was just a croaking anguish as she cried. Kostya slid away, slowly, before reversing his course, albeit unsurely.

Turning to his front, he crawled toward Alexios' dead body, tears silently falling from his face as he slowly began reaching into the man's various pockets, doing as his commander before him. Pharah looked up just long enough to notice what he was doing, and she began crawling again, slowly, toward them.

Kostya had pulled something out, and he fell to his side to sit down, his hand held at his face as he examined the piece, turning to Pharah as she approached, his voice wavering, "It's, uh…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but Pharah could see the world around him shrinking. Looking harder, she saw something that resembled a model or something; a feature one would see on a magazine. Quietly, Kostya reached into his pocket for a pen, scribbling onto it before dropping the pen there, shaking his head.

"I zeppose, uh…" he spoke up between light, tearful heaves, "No more names now…"

His word held an oddly solemn calm between the two as they remained there, watching over the older man's body. Finally, Kostya reached over for his jacket, standing up to put it on himself, shaking his head as he did so, looking down at Pharah sadly.

"Doesn't fit," he noted, a light chuckle breaking through his sadness, "Maybe, eh, I fill it in, perha-"

*THUMP*

The two of them suddenly whipped their heads to the double doors, the knocking sounding like fifteen men knocking in unison. Pharah watched, shocked, before reaching her hand up, her eyes remaining fixed on the entrance.

"Kostya," she whispered, "Help me up."

He did so, the two quietly making their way out the back as quickly as possible, as things considere-

*THUMP*

Pharah looked back over her shoulder as she hobbled along, the two finally emerging onto the small boardwalk that had served as her launching point the last few hours. They both looked up, hunting down the Splitstream, but coming up with nothing.

"Wh-What..?" Pharah muttered to herself, "Where the hell did-"

*CRASH*

The loudest of gunshot broke through the entryway, the door almost exploding from the sheer power of the blast. Pharah forcefully pushed Kostya over into a corner as she fell to the ground, not moving as the doorway was kicked open, even if it was only a small collection of splinters at this point.

As the torn doors swung open, it was almost as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the area, with Pharah's lungs dropping at the sight before her. As if the Grim Reaper himself was entering, a man strode in, clad all in black, a skull mask the only thing forcing him to stand out in the darkness. As he scanned the building, his gaze descending upon Pharah, her entire soul chilled.

His breath emerged, a voice as if all life had been torn from it traveling through the air, "Who…"

Pharah watched him, determined, her own helmet seeming to match his in a duel of underworld symbolism, though she clearly knew that, without her legs, she would win nothing. The deathly man walked toward her, but his paces didn't match his speed as his body floated lightly off the ground.

"Who….are you…" his hollowed voice returned.

Pharah pushed herself back, her inability to stand seeking to finally come to his attention as he stopped, examining her. Suddenly, his voice turned into a chuckle, a surely dark sound.

"Overwatch…" he spoke, almost happily in his own sickly, lifeless way.

He shook his head amusedly, a sheet of paper appearing before him as he pulled a raven quill out of thin air, "Your name..? Ah, no matter… I'll make one up. 'The fool they brought on who couldn't walk'… Brilliant…"

Pharah gritted her teeth at being insulted, her hand curling into a fist when, immediately, a large gun appeared in the man's hand as his voiced called out, gravely, "You move, I shoot."

Finished writing, he immediately crossed out what had been written, the sheet evaporating as he turned toward Pharah. She angrily sneered as he approached her, gun toted in hand, and as he stood above her, even through his mask, she could feel him snickering silently.

"Overwatch…" he repeated, apathetically, "Time…to…die…"


	16. Heroes Never Die

The blast of a gunshot suddenly burst through the air, forcing Angela to jump in surprise, hitting her head on the dashboard of the cockpit. She picked herself up from bending toward the communications unit, carefully eyeing the landscape once again. She didn't know what such a thing meant; who had fired, who was bring fired upon, but regardless, given the communications blackout, she'd already been debating going on alone anyway.

As the G-53 remained airborne over the cliffs, its top slowly opened, allowing Angela to climb atop the craft. She remained there, crouched down to hold her balance as she stared back into the cockpit, Pharah's rocket launcher leaning against the console, brought along in case of an emergency. She examined it, slowly reaching back into the ship as she took a hold of it, pulling it to her chest as she stood, jumping over onto the Ilios concrete, her arms wrapped around the launcher and her caduceus.

She hurriedly ran toward the evacuation zone, remaining cautious as she ran through the streets, though, as night had somewhat fallen, she could afford to rush through the darkness, her white armor blending in with the shining walls of the structures she held against.

Coming to the warehouse, she cautiously squeezed through the barricade, remained crouched down as she made her way to an opposite entrance from the main one, seeing as how its doors had all but evaporated into wooden shavings. She found a side door, crouching beside it as she rested her caduceus against the wall, still clutching the rocket launcher.

As she collected her breath before advancing, she noticed a you g man's head poking out from some boxes, curiously watching her with frightened eyes. She cautiously crawled toward him through the shadows, though as she approached, his fear turned into awe.

He grasped her hand, rather forcefully, bringing it to his forehead in reverence, "Ahn-gel! Oh, Ahn-gel!"

Angela watched him dismissively, though it wasn't an unexpected reaction- her suit had been specifically designed to be universally recognized as non-threatening, but this man's reverence bordered on fanaticism. She calmed him as she patted his shoulder, hurriedly reaching into her armor for her earpiece.

"Who's alive?"

The man stared at her in shock as the earpiece blared out in Greek, "[Me! I-I'm the last, but…but… Rocket Queen is inside…evil man…]"

Angela quickly grasped at his collar, pulling him along toward the side door, dropping him against the wall and dropping the rocket launcher onto his lap with a thud, "If you want out alive, wait for the signal, then toss this into the room, got it?"

The man nodded rapidly, mostly due to shock as he stared at the weapon, horrified. Angela watched him sadly; he seemed just a child, but he wore the coat of a UN commander. She could only imagine how many had to die for him to have taken the mantle, and she gently held his shoulder, his eyes suddenly jumping up to watch her.

"What's your name?"

"K-Kostya."

"Okay, Kostya. We're going to be okay, alright?"

He nodded, much slower now, as he calmed himself. Angela patted him in reply as she made her way back toward her caduceus, knowing that Pharah's status would buy her some amount of time. She knew Talon's interests; not knowing Pharah was, in fact, in Overwatch could only be a good thing.

Angela snuck into the warehouse, immediately feeling a dark energy swirling around her. She had herself against a stack of crates before finally allowing herself to creep out just enough to see what was going on, her hand clutching desperately to her caduceus.

Her eyes went wide.

There stood the great betrayer of the team she had once served alongside, and although this man had a few names he was known by, Angela knew him by only one; the one he had held when he was still human. Without even moving, her heart began to beat rapidly, and she quietly held herself against the wooden boxes to steady herself, her eyes trailing down to see Pharah laying there, desperately trying to do anything but remain there.

Pharah's fist curled in defiance, the reaper immediately lifting his gun toward her with the ghastliest of ghostly voices, "You move, I shoot."

Angela's heart sunk into a deeper part of her body than she'd even known, looking around as she thought of what to do. Quickly, she came up with something: the way that Pharah's newness must have been an advantage, it was time for Angela to use her familiarity to her own advantage.

She silently placed her caduceus onto the ground, aiming directly at Pharah, quietly crouching her way around the perimeter of the warehouse. She heard a sound that resembled paper shriveling in a fire as she dashed past a gap in the storage containers, finally hearing footsteps as she managed her way so that this ghost was between her and Pharah.

"Overwatch…" he spoke darkly, "Time…to…die…"

"GABRIEL!"

The ghost's gun clacked as he raised it toward him in defense as he slowly spun around, head first, eying the woman who stood a good few meters away from him. Despite his emotionless mask, Angela could feel his surprise trail into the air, quickly replaced with an odd aura of amusement.

"Angela…" he spoke, matter-of-factly, "My my, what a development."

"Still selling your soul to Talon, I see," Angela sneered, though it only caused an audible chuckle from the reaper.

'Gabriel' lowered his guns, both of them disappearing into thin air, "Come now; nobody owns me. You know that. Not Talon, not Overwatch. Sad, really, that it cost me a life to learn that lesson, but nevertheless."

He shrugged as he turned slightly back toward Pharah, "Still bringing more unfortunate victims into the fold, eh?"

"Seeing as how one of us wasn't good enough in life, we needed some replacement," Angela shot back.

Gabriel laughed aloud, shaking his head, "You still have it, I see. Not for long, though, sadly. "

Pharah had been watching the two, having inferred that this Reaper of a man had once, somehow, been a part of Overwatch. She watched Angela, sadly, at the thought of her being defenseless, though her inside raged at her inability to protect her.

Still, she suddenly felt a rumbling running through her legs, almost as though they were being freed from their seized muscles. She slowly turned her head, a faintly golden light running to them from behind some crates; Angela's caduceus? She quickly returned to her previous position to deflect suspicion, gathering this to be why Angela was buying time with conversation.

"Tell me, did they ever get around to tearing that statue down?" Gabriel questioned, lifting his hand smugly, his huge firearm materializing within it, "And be honest."

Angela stared him down, unshakingly, "It's still up. Not all men feel compelled to compare themselves to monuments."

Unamused, Gabriel went on, seriously, "And its image-sake?"

Angela replied just as blankly, "If you don't know that, you've done a considerably poor job."

A dark anger permeated the atmosphere of the room, Gabriel stomping toward Angela, "Big talk for being the one without the gun. You seem to be aware of my goals; are you that intent on speeding the process?"

"No," Angela muttered, apathetically, "But she is."

Whipping his body around, Pharah jumped into Gabriel's body, the sudden impact forcing his gun to go flying before burning away in midair. Pharah lifted her fist atop the ghost, but just as his name suggests, he evaporated into nothingness, causing Pharah to sink back onto the concrete. She quickly stood up and spun back toward the side door, seeing Angela dashing toward it, having her rocket launcher tossed to her.

"Kostya?" Pharah asked.

Angela nodded, "Consider this a gift from him."

She handed the large firearm to Pharah before collecting her caduceus, carefully looking around, "Okay, that's Gabriel Reyes; he tried to kill off our leader before dying himself, coming back as that…thing. He is _not_ the person we want here."

She sighed, "The G-53 sits only one person. We'll get Kostya out, then, I suppose, hold out until Tracer gets back."

Pharah nodded, "Sounds good."

She lowered her head, distantly, "Oh, uh… I'm sorry for-"

Angela lightly punched her shoulder, "Hush. Let's get out of this first."

Pharah nodded in agreement as the two hurried toward the door, but Pharah quickly grabbed Angela's arm, pulling her back, "There's a sniper."

Thinking, Angela replied, "I got here fine, though."

Pharah nodded, "Yes, but I'd bet that this was, indeed, a trap. If that's the case, they must be working together. If that thing is former Overwatch, surely he'll know we'd immediately focus on getting civilians out."

" _Too true_ ," Gabriel's empty voice echoed through the room, " _You might have made a good operative if I hadn't already crossed off your name, Amari._ "

Pharah looked up, skeptically, as Angela tugged at her arm, "He's just trying to trip you up; let's go."

" _I saw that tattoo_ ," Gabriel mocked, " _Angela, you dog, working alongside the spawn of your arch-nemesis. And you call_ me _a traitor._ "

Angela looked around emotionlessly, when suddenly, Kostya's voice rang out, chillingly. They spun around to see him being dragged from their view past the door, back toward the cliffside, Angela darting after him as Pharah quickly made her way to the other door to cut the ghost off. She ducked behind a stack of tables just as a pulse beam fired right past her.

Carefully, she advanced, coming along the boardwalk the bordered the cliff, seeing a pair of hands grasping onto the wall that separated the two, her voice shouting, "Kostya!"

She rushed over, throwing herself against the railing as she reached down, grabbing for the man's hand, his eyes wide open in fright. Suddenly, Angela appeared, grasping his other hand the two struggling, though they were still slowly able to lift him up.

Angela shut her eyes to numb the strain on her arms, but just as her arm began to slide up against the railing to raise him up, an ear-shattering burst of grapeshot rang through her skull, her eyes flying open just as Pharah's body collapsed against the railing, sliding down into a slump, only held together by her suit.

Her eyes shifted, almost in slow motion, back toward the large shotgun-like weapon that sat in the air, a ghastly mask staring back at her. Angela couldn't find the air to gasp, or even scream, but as Kostya's arms grasped along the railing, she fell down toward Pharah, clutching at her armor, speechless.

Gabriel shrugged, "She got marked. I only do what I promise."

His cold voice paused as the burning sound of paper reemerged, "Now, while we're here…"

He whipped out his quill as Angela finally found her voice, a soft cry of anguish being the only thing there as she felt around Pharah's armor as if to ascertain where she'd been hit, though her lifeless body only served as a colder than ice reminder of the inevitable result.

"You don't even protect yourself," Gabriel sighed as he crossed another name off his hellish paper.

Angela jumped with each quiet sob that ran through her head, her body trembling toward a crescendo of sadness and anger. She stared down at the corpse through tearful eyes, when suddenly, the piece in her ear began a slight beeping noise, building in rapidity as Angela looked up toward the man who called evil his master.

"Hehe," he mused, smugly, "Now you decide to-"

"No," Angela muttered, "But _she_ does."

Gabriel's eyes barely widened before a blinding pair of indubitably white lights that arose from beneath the cliff, reflecting off of his mask as he looked on, the hidden eyes behind his mask widening in horror at the sight. He could barely find the will to move he was so alarmed, the only thing breaking him from his shock being the speakers that suddenly blared, an undoubtedly British voice yelling out.

"Bloody cavalry, baby!" Tracer shouted into her intercom, her face contorted into a wholly angered expression as she eyed Gabriel through the windshield.

Suddenly, Gabriel disappeared into a spasm of black dust, leaving Tracer to quickly turn down at her monitor, carefully hunting down nearby electromagnetic disturbances in the atmosphere, knowing he couldn't get far. As suddenly as he'd left, the monitor began lighting up, and Tracer immediately spun her chair around, pulling a lever as the Splitstream suddenly evaporated out of existence.

Gabriel hustled from out of the warehouse, looking behind him for just a brief moment as he dashed away, hopping in between an alleyway, slowing to a stop as he took a breather, or at least, however much of one he needed in this state. Surely, he knew, an aircraft could possibly-

In a maneuver of technical wizardry, Tracer piloted the Splitstream right into the very space where space and time converged, her eyes narrowed in absolute focus as she found a narrow pathway; a man there, clad in black, with a white mask.

In that two feet of clearance between walls where Gabriel stood, the Splitstream molded into existence, crashing into him before, just two feet later, coursing back into the ether between worlds. All that was left was one of Gabriel's guns, having flown from his person, only to slowly fade from existence just before hitting the ground.

* * *

As soon as Gabriel and Tracer had vanished, Angela had returned to Pharah, leaning down and clutching her head. Whatever reservations she had had prior suddenly faded away as the reality of the situation suddenly kicked in.

Quickly, she rubbed her hand along the side of the armor, finding a switch that suddenly forced the breastplate to open, revealing Pharah's chest, riddled with gunshots. Even while her eyes teared up, Angela reached down, rubbing her hand over the wounds to examine them, reaching down to her side to pull out a scalpel.

She paused for a moment, quickly going over her reviews for field surgery. Safe location. Restrained or calm, patient. Sterilization…

Angela hurried looked around, quickly returning to Pharah's body, leaning down and wiping her tears to rub against the wounds. Not enough. She watched with wide eyes, suddenly bringing her fist up punching herself in the gut, repeatedly, her face cringing in pain as she worked up tears, her voice grunting with every pound, watching the deceased body of this woman who had taken her body, her heart, her soul.

Leaning over her body, Angela's tears fell onto Pharah's body, disinfecting the wounds as she reached down with the scalpel, skillfully hunting down each individual bit of shrapnel. As she found them, she threw them, angrily, out into the distance, shaking her head as she returned for more, her face beginning to sweat with anxiety.

Kostya had worked himself up, and had fetched her caduceus, resting it beside her, earning Angela's nod, "Thank you."

He nodded in reply as he backed away, holding his hands to his mouth as he watch, horrified, with anguishing anticipation. Angela toggled on her staff, a shining yellow light enveloping Pharah's body, though to no avail. As she came along, her hand gently pressing against skin and muscle, finding no more shrapnel, she dropped her scalpel on the ground, simply wrapping her arms around Pharah's head, and curling up against it, quietly weeping.

Her voice was a choked up whisper as she gently leaned in to kiss her cheek, "Heroes never die…"

Kostya could only watch the scene, but had turned around in solemn respect, leaving Angela to her lover, quietly resting atop of her, now almost silently.

Suddenly, a blast of plasma shot nearby, forcing Kostya to jump back for cover, but Angela remained where she was, lifting her body and turning behind her, crying out through her tears, "STOP IT! CAN'T YOU SEE I'VE HAD ENOUGH?!"

She held her arms over her head as she fell back into herself, her body shaking in absolutely misery. She cried out loud, but was silenced by a mechanical clicking nearby, causing her to suddenly look up, seeing the Raptora having closed up around Pharah.

In a split second, the suit blasted off into the sky, holding steady as Pharah's head and limbs lifelessly held on. Despite that, the suit acted itself, suddenly shooting open a multitude of compartments, an array of missiles suddenly showing themselves.

A distinguishing voice suddenly muttered, quietly, from within that nearby building where the shot had come from:

" _Bordel de merde…"_

With the power of a thunderstorm, thousands of tiny missiles blasted from the Raptora, flashing through the air for just a second before pelting into the building, an explosive array of magnanimous proportions suddenly bursting upon the landscape. Angela watched in righteous horror, her face glowing in the reds and oranges of the destruction.

Even as the Raptora slowly began its descent, Angela stared on in terror, only turning as Pharah's body returned to the ground, watching her in astonishment. Quietly, a voice began to come from the suit, as if recorded to do so.

Pharah's voice.

"Heroes…never die, love."

Angela's hand reached over to grab ahold of Fareeha's, holding it tight enough that the white of her skin grew red. She closed her eyes as her head hung low, her other hand reaching up to hide her face. She was so tired of tears by now. So tired of this misery. So tired of watching people die. But never before had she loved somebody. Loved somebody whom she couldn't protect. She had promised. Promised to have her back. And, yet, here she was.

And it broke her heart into a million pieces.


	17. An Unwelcome Reunion

Fareeha's eyelids began to flutter as her conciseness began to fade back to her. Her eyes broke open, meeting a scorching bright light that forced her eyes shut again. She might have though she was gazing into heaven if not for the searing pain that tore through her chest. She remained quiet, though, as she started ascertaining her whereabouts; after all, she could be in some hole of a building belonging to Talon for all she knew.

Her toes wiggled underneath a nicely woolen material, so she had been given some warmth and comfort; a good sign, she supposed. But then, her nerves began to fire to and from her hands, a suddenly warm sensation coming from her right one. She attempted to move her fingers, but was unable to, and she slowly peeked out from her eyelids to see what was hindering her.

Slowly, the slumped over body of Angela came into focus, having leaned onto the bed, seemingly to take a nap. Her hands were wrapped and Fareeha's, and in her sleep, seemed to have accidently moved her head over onto her hand as well. Still in a daze, Fareeha couldn't exactly make out who was there- only that they were incredibly beautiful. Why on earth would somebody like that be at her bedside?

The aching in her chest radiated wildly, running through her almost, from front to back. She knew she hadn't ever had a pain like this before, and her other hand curiously pulled itself toward the top of the blanket, holding onto her body as it slid slowly down up her side and onto her stomach. All she felt was skin, cold skin, her finger inching across her until her middle finger suddenly dipped into a hole in her torso.

Suddenly, her synapses flipped back to life, the night before flushing back into her mind as her eyes shot open in realization, her voice suddenly crying out quickly as the light burned her eyes, hurriedly closing them again.

Angela's head lifted slowly, feeling Fareeha's hand moving, and she whipped her head around to see her cringing as her opposite hand massaged her eyes. Fareeha couldn't see her, so by the time Angela had, more or less, jumped over toward her to wrap her arms around her, the pain was a sudden shock of flame through her body.

"Gah!" she shouted wincing at the pain, "W-What?!"

Angela pouted atop of her, "You said you wouldn't leave."

Although unable to open her eyes, Fareeha still lifted her head as though to watch her, "I'm also faintly certain the doctor said something about not touching."

Angela grunted defiantly, raising her head snobbishly, "He wouldn't even let me hold your hand. I had to sneak my hand up there when I could. Even children know that coma patients improve tremendously through physical contact."

Fareeha wanted to retort somehow, but knew that what was coming from Angela's mouth was extremely adorable, and decided to simply rest her head with a sigh, shaking her head in futility, though the pain began to subside.

"How are you feeling?"

Suddenly smiling, Fareeha answered, "Well, like I've been shot in the back, I guess."

"Shut up…" Angela muttered dismissively, turning away as if to forget what had happened.

Fareeha paused, but ultimately continued, "Sorry."

Angela shook her head to dismiss her apology, "No, no; you're fine. It's just… You know what, just go on; it'll be a brief respite before we go into what's happened since…"

Fareeha lifted her head, curiously, through closed eyes, "Wait, what?"

Angela turned to her, grimacing at her face, which looked incredibly dumb with eyes closed and her "looking" around. She gently pushed herself off from the railing and returned to her chair, reaching into her small rucksack and pulling out a pair of sunglasses.

"Here," she directed as she placed them over onto her face, "These should help."

Looking like a confused and hungover rock star, Fareeha looked around the room with cracked eyes, getting the hang of seeing again. Even through the dark lenses, it was a chore to handle the brightness of the hospital, but she persevered anyway.

"Okay," Angela went on, hiding a grin at Fareeha's goofy appearance, "Diagnosis."

Fareeha shrugged as she let her head down, "Uh, general pain?"

Angela eyed her sarcastically, "No shit. Anything more specific."

Cracking a grin of her own, Fareeha continued, "Well, it's definitely in my torso. I'm assuming the bullets went right through me if I have holes in my chest."

"Yes, and thank god, too…" Angela sighed, "But his guns were more like shotguns; you still had plenty of shrapnel inside of you. Winston surmised that the shrapnel is used as a sort of damage-over-time strategy; they seem to emit some sort of…dark toxin that kills you even if you walk away."

She leaned back into her chair with a sigh, crossing her arms, "Good thing you had a damn good field doctor there to perform surgery on the spot."

Fareeha's head turned toward her, her eyes just opening enough to see the doctor, "…thank-"

"Don't," Angela interrupted, "We saved each other. We don't owe anybody anything."

She paused for a moment, "Well, maybe Lena."

Fareeha chuckled for just a brief second before the pain forced her to stop, "I knew that girl would come through."

"Yes," Angela groaned, "And I came through in the clutch myself, tackling the poor girl before she could jump onto you in your stretcher."

Fareeha shook her head, "Shame I had to miss all the fun."

"Oh, ho ho…" Angela muttered, sarcastically again, "I'm sure there'll be plenty of fun for you to endure coming up."

Fareeha's eyes peered over, "Huh?"

Angela watched her for a second before standing up and walking toward the sliding door, closing it as she spun around, holding it closed behind her back, examining Fareeha closely as her body dropped.

"Your mother is here."

"M- Wait, mom?!" Fareeha shouted, subconsciously lifting her body, only to be taken down, again, by the pain, wrapping her arms across her torso, "What is she doing here?!"

"Well, her daughter almost died," Angela shrugged, "While, of course, just being initiated into the same organization that she was in. She probably had a lot of questions, and from her attitude, had a lot of people she wanted out of her way."

Fareeha watched her, confused, "Wait, wh-"

Angela sighed, "The first thing she did was come in here to see you, had her little pity party for a good minute or two, all without tears, wondering "why, oh why was my daughter subjected to such horrors". Then after blaming Winston and me, tried getting me thrown out because I "am no longer Overwatch"."

Fareeha watched her curiously as Angela pulled out a badge from her slim pocket, "Joke's on her, though. I _am_ Overwatch."

Her mind running a mile a minute, Fareeha held her forehead, "Wait, how long was I out?!"

"A few weeks," Angela smiled slightly, "I had to join to go help you though, so technically, I was a part of the team last you saw me as well."

Fareeha shook her head, "Okay. And why does mother hate you? I know you two argued a lot, but that was years ago, right?"

Angela shrugged, "I don't know _what's_ wrong with that old geezer. For a second I thought she was going to steal you away to her little cave somewhere to help heal you with dirt-medicine and rain water."

Sighing, Fareeha rubbed her hands up her face underneath her sunglasses, "Well, thank you for…not…letting her take me…there?"

Angela grinned, "But I've had you to myself most of the time. Lena and Emily have shown up often, and Winston made an appearance or two. All the old Overwatch people came at one point; they've all been somewhat invested in your progress, especially us old-timers."

Fareeha turned to her, incredulously, "Wait, what?!"

"Yes, you missed it," Angela chuckled lightly, "Don't worry, you'll get a chance to actually meet them, I'm sure, now that you've recovered."

Suddenly becoming dark, Angela's head lowered, "You have no idea how low of a success rate people have getting away from Gabriel…or "Reaper", as they've started calling him. Death has a 100% success rate; but the Grim Reaper doesn't."

Angela grinned toward Fareeha, "Congratulations."

She didn't move, but Angela slowly re-opened the door before walking back toward her chair, "Reinhardt wants to come by, so you'll probably meet him first. No doubt the thought of reuniting with Ana is an enticing to him; those two always did enjoy their sweet-nothings before a mission, just to annoy us."

"Maybe he'll keep her in line," Angela shrugged as she sat down, going on curiously, "You really don't mind me speaking of your mother this way…"

Fareeha shrugged, "I mean, it's hard to feel something for somebody who's supposed to always be there for you, but never is. All I wanted was some comfort, but all she ever gave me was more obstacle courses to traverse, and another firearm to try my hand out."

She turned toward Angela, "Freud would say I have something of a fixation as a result, I guess."

Angela cleared her throat as she turned away to hide a blush, "Uh, I guess the discretionary part of your brain is still recovering..."

Fareeha only laughed as lightly as she could, "Sorry. But to answer you, I do feel something- something like unyielding respect. But, I mean, I don't feel much of a connection to her. It's like most of the other Overwatch members; I know who they are, and I respect them tremendously, but I don't _know_ them. I feel nothing for them. Well, I remember Mr. Morrison sneaking me seconds when I ended up going with everybody to a restaurant and my mother went to the restroom."

She giggled, "He said to hurry up, desperately, because god knew what my mother would have done to him if she knew."

Angela smiled lightly, "And you probably don't have similar stories with your mother."

"Nope," Fareeha answered, blankly, "It's never been a problem though. I'd like to think she feels the same toward me, but if she's barging in here and telling you to leave, I mean-"

Angela watched her, curiously, "You wouldn't see your mother in the hospital?"

Fareeha shrugged, "I mean, I _did_. I can't say I wanted to. Assuming I would visit again, I certainly wouldn't charge on in like I owned the place."

She turned to Angela, "Why?"

Angela's lips contorted in thought, "I don't know. I mean, I can't say I enjoy the woman, but even I would bite my tongue and visit her."

"Did you see her after the-"

Angela nodded, "Yep. She actually let me examine her eye, or, you know, whatever was left of it, anyway. Kind of surprised me, but I guess even she knows a good doctor when she sees-"

She stopped herself, embarrassingly, though Fareeha only grinned, "I went on August 13th."

Angela watched her, lowly, "August 12th…"

Fareeha smiled distantly, sighing as she turned her head back toward the ceiling, "Oh, what could have been."

"Or not have been, as a result," Angela replied with a frown.

Fareeha only smiled, however, "I would have swept your ass off your feet; don't even."

Angela laughed, shaking her head with a smile. She reached out to hold Fareeha's hand, looking up and into those giant, dark lenses that doubled for eyes.

"Okay, I can't kiss you with those things on your face," Angela muttered, "You look like Elvis' last days."

Fareeha grinned, "I think they make me look cool. Aren't these the ones you were wearing when you picked me up?"

"No," Angela quickly replied as she conveniently turned away to check the time, forcing a grin from Fareeha.

"I think I'll keep them on for now," she concluded as she turned away, "You'll give me a kiss sooner or later."

Angela watched her seriously, her bluff having been called, but she simply remained in her chair, arms crossed, her face contorting in an upset silence. Suddenly, she stood up, reaching over to grasp the IV running into Fareeha's arm, examining it before turning toward one of the monitors.

Fareeha watched with a grin as she walked up to the head of the bed, getting a closer look at the screen, her voice muttering in annoyance, "Why would they- Ugh…"

She turned toward the bed, "They didn't alter the hydraulic lift; all your blood is probably rushing to your legs; let me just fix it."

Angela leaned over, across Fareeha's head, reaching for some hand-held device on the other side of the bed, clicking the button as the bottom half of the hospital bed lifted up a good inch. Sighing as she completed her task, she pulled away, her lips just barely brushing against Fareeha's as if by accident, though she didn't speak about it, simply standing straight and looking back at the monitors.

The next time she looked away, she saw Fareeha staring back at her, albeit through squinted eyes, though they still watched her seriously, as if doing their best to reach out by themselves and pull her shirt off. Angela's sunglasses were held in her hand, and she quickly flipped them away, across the room, leaving Angela a wide open shot toward her lips.

Though the pain had dulled, Angela leaning against her had caused it to flare up again, though it mattered little. Angela's arms wrapped desperately against Fareeha's head, underneath her pillow, while Fareeha gingerly grasped onto her shoulders, their lips both fighting for the others'.

As though neglected of such contact for decades, Angela's lips desperately did their best to gently suck on either of Fareeha's tender set, though, as her opposite was trying much the same, she found herself frustrated on occasion. She refused to breath, afraid of losing even one second of this woman's lips; a pair that could steal her stare, render her speechless, or force her body into a quivering mess.

Lost in this moment, Angela's hand acted alone as it reached down, resting on Fareeha's shoulder as though setting up a base camp of sorts, her lips so deeply surrounded by Fareeha's for her to take much of any accounting for the appendage. Fareeha's hand, though, crawled down to grasp Angela's collar, trying to pull her down closer into her body, desperately seeking the warmth that she knew resided within her-

"Ahem…"

In a split second, Angela shot back up, turning to the side as she straightened out her clothes, while Fareeha could only turn her head away, the doctor clearing her throat as she spoke up, "…and that's why it's my medical opinion to administer the serum in the French-style; it's far more easy on the body."

Not wanted to face such embarrassment, she hadn't turned to the doorway, but inevitably had to. She cringed as she turned, her eyes opening wide in shock at the large man who stood there, almost as large as a dump truck, looking away politely as the scene before him played out.

"Reinhardt?!"

The large man nervously scratched his beard as he stared off down the corridor, "I, uh, could come back?"

"Pfft," Angela scoffed, waving him in, "Get in here!"

He slowly entered, still a bit taken aback by the sight, "I don't remember ever receiving that treatment back in the day."

Angela only laughed, surprised by her lack of embarrassment, shaking her head, "Oh no; this is special medicine. Come on, you should know that."

The old man chuckled, "Very well met, milady. And WHO'S THIS?!"

His boisterous voice shook the room as he noticed Fareeha, who stared back, more frightened than anything, forcing Reinhardt to back off his excitement, "Oh! I'm sorry dear; I just went back a few years seeing you. When you're my age, such things really, uh, "pump you up", I suppose."

He nervously went for his beard again as Fareeha examined him, "O-Oh! Mr. Wilhelm?"

"AH HA!" he shouted, lifting his arms in triumph, "Little Fareeha _does_ remember me! I wasn't sure; I know my age hasn't treated me well. Thankfully, Angela did, though I think those implants may be starting to, eh, 'tectonicize', as you put it."

Angela nodded with a smile, "I'll take a look; don't worry."

She looked down at Fareeha, "At least you have a gun and not a hammer. Poor guy's skeletal system has been ash for decades; Winston and I actually devised a system of plates to sort of replace his spine."

"Yes," Reinhardt noted, a slight tremor in his voice, "And they move, too, like tectonic plates, I suppose, though I can tell because I can barely move."

He grinned, "But without your help, I couldn't still do…THIS!"

Reinhardt quickly bent down and grasped at Fareeha's bed, lifting it as the patient desperately grasped onto either railing, Angela quickly reaching over to stop him, "R-Rein! Th-That's enough, old friend!"

Realizing what he'd been doing, Reinhardt grinned nervously, gently returning the bed to the ground, lowering his head in apology, "M-My bad, milady."

"N-N-No, y-you're fine," Fareeha replied, nervously.

Reinhardt gingerly backed up, pulling a chair over to sit down, perhaps to ensure he wouldn't pull any more antics, turning quietly toward Angela, "Uh, Winston mentioned that you, erm… I apologize for…"

Angela shook her head, waving him off, "No, it's fine. Everybody was just worried about me; I understand it now. Surely you understand all the conspiring and behind-the-back talk that went on."

Reinhardt sighed, his eyes widening for a moment in acknowledgement, "Boy, do I. All the more reason I shouldn't have been asking about you without coming to you, though, I must admit, nobody could tell where you were. The most we got were religious incantations of angels or the like."

He looked over toward her, shockingly, "Though! from what I hear, you're back?"

Angela nodded with a light smile, causing Reinhardt to reply instantly, "How did that happen?"

Her hand reached over, patting Fareeha's hand as she smiled, "I had to."

Reinhardt gave an admiring "aww" before a goofy face shone on his face, smiling, "Well how about that. I take it I don't have to point out the irony?"

Angela groaned, lifting her head, "Oh, I'm sure it will be made very much clear, soon enough."


	18. Ziegler and Amari

Fareeha woke up later on that night, having taken to sleep so that she could rest further. She flexed her appendages, curling her fingers, though the pain in her chest was very prominent still, along with the lingering cold from within her, as though her internal temperature had been lowered. It wasn't much of an annoyance, or a pain, but it still was slightly irritating whenever it came to her mind.

Reinhardt had gone to grab some blankets, one for each of them, but even with the added barrier, she still felt chilled. The older man had stayed while Angela went off for a shower, and to just get away for a bit, now that Fareeha was out of her coma, but even in the darkness through the windows, he'd fallen asleep himself, having pulled another chair across from him, laying down between the two pieces of furniture.

Quiet footsteps soon approached the door, Angela slowly walking in with her hair down, undried, in her pajamas, carrying a small tote bag with her. She immediately noticed Reinhardt napping, so she took gentle steps around the hospital bed, slowly lowering her bag to the ground.

"Sorry," she muttered, "I hadn't showered since you were brought here."

Fareeha smiled, "You're fine. Nothing I wouldn't have been used to; my field commander always said cleanliness was next to the person who completed the task first."

Angela nodded, "Well, it was a load off _my_ mind. Besides, it gave me a chance to pick some things up."

She pulled out some books to read to keep her busy, a portable disk player for watching stuff, a few gift-wrapped boxes, and a small jewelry box, a little wooden thing with a glass window put into its lid. Angela carefully sorted everything out, keeping the colorful boxes on the bed, her eyes quickly switching from them to the various cards that should have accompanied them.

"I think…yeah, this one's from Torby. This one's…Jack? So that means that…yeah…this one's from Madame Adawe."

Fareeha slowly lifted her head, "Wait, Adawe..?"

Angela nodded, still trying to sort out the three cards, "Yes… I mean, Winston and Lena may be operating unofficially, but you didn't think they could do so much without somebody on the inside, did you?"

"No, I was just…surprised, is all," Fareeha spoke slowly, still in surprise.

Angela smiled, "Well, open it first then!"

Fareeha nodded as Angela handed her the orange box, helping her to unwrap it and collecting the ripped up bits. Fareeha opened the velvety black box underneath, her eyes sparkling as she saw what was inside, gently pulling it out, revealing the solid emblem of Overwatch upon a badge, an official case one would whip out if somebody were to ask who they worked for, like a police badge.

She turned to Angela, who returned a sincere smile, "Welcome to Overwatch, love."

Fareeha's head fell back into the pillow, staring up toward the ceiling, clutching the leathery case against her chest, almost as though her entire life's work had been placed in front of her.

"Are you oka-"

"I'm fine," Fareeha confirmed, unconvincingly, gently turning her head away, "I'm fine."

Angela smiled, shaking her head as she slowly began to work on unwrapping the two other gifts, "You can't get shot in the back, live to tell about it, and _not_ earn your striped. Not when it comes to Overwatch, anyway; even the scientists routinely saw combat on occasion."

Fareeha sighed in relief as she raised her head again, her eyes noticeably reddened, as Angela placed another box atop her stomach, "This one's Jack's."

"Mr. Morrison?" Fareeha asked, surprised, as if missing it the first time.

Angela nodded, "Yep, but if you call him that, he'd probably hit you upside the head, so watch it. Reinhardt once remarked how much they both looked like grandfathers; Jack nearly had a conniption fit, ironically."

Fareeha slowly opened the second box, finding a small stuffed falcon inside of it, with a small slip of paper with some writing on it. She carefully examined the stuffed animal before pulling the tiny slip close enough to read, the scrawl obviously written by a man in a hurry.

"You obviously need more help keeping an eye out. Good luck, rookie."

Fareeha grinned at the words, sarcastically remarking aloud, "Well, good that he's looking out."

Angela chuckled, handing her the final present, already unwrapped, though Fareeha didn't notice her leaning backward, ever so slightly. Fareeha carefully lifted the lid of the box, though was immediately shot at by a small bouncy-ball, launched out from the darkness within the box.

"WHAT THE-?!" she shouted, dropping the box and waving her arms in front of her, defensively.

Angela grabbed at her stomach as she fell forward in a laughing fit, shaking her head, "Oh my god; that was the best yet!"

Fareeha stared at her, confused, before peeking back into the box. A miniature Rube-Goldberg setup from within the small box itself, which seemed to be able to launch the small object as soon as the lid lifted up.

"Wait, you knew?" Fareeha asked.

Angela nodded, just now controlling her laughter, "Yep. Torby does it to everybody. I knew he'd kill me if I told you, and we sort of have a running championship for who reacts the funniest, and I think you may have taken first!"

Fareeha frowned, glumly, but slowly revealed a knowing grin, quite happy to have been included in an initiation such as this, despite how silly it seemed. She carefully moved her gifts to her side, smiling as she rested her head once again.

"They were nice," she opined aloud, "I can't wait to actually meet them."

"Well, you do have one more thing," Angela spoke up, rummaging again through her rucksack, "My present."

"Yours?" Fareeha asked, apprehensive, "You really didn't have to-"

"It was nothing," Angela confirmed, brightly, "Besides, it wasn't even expensive, so don't even worry about it."

Fareeha sighed in defeat, resigned to herself as she groaned quietly, covering her face with her hands to massage her face, though as she did, she suddenly felt her bed displace underneath the weight of somebody, her eyes flying open to see what was going on, seeing Angela with her knee up on the bed, crawling in with her.

"Wh-What're you…?!" she questioned, causing Angela to freeze on the spot in that odd pose.

"What?!" she retorted, quickly, "We're watching a movie, dummy."

Fareeha sighed with relief, "S-Sorry; I just… You know."

Angela grinned as she crawled on into the bed, "What, "present"? You thought I was going to tango in a hospital bed?"

She dropped down beside Fareeha, reaching over for the portable player, "I mean, I could, but Reinhardt is _right_ there."

Fareeha smirked, "You seemed fine with him walking in earlier."

Angela shrugged as she worked with the small device, "I mean, you can't really be embarrassed around him once you know him. He's… Look, I have a _lot_ of bad blood with former colleagues, but Reinhardt has never once been a recipient of a bad thing I've ever had to say."

"He's just a big ol' sweetheart," Angela noted as she tinkered along, "You'll warm up to him quickly enough. You may have to regardless; he and your mother were quite the pairing."

Angela looked off into the distance, pausing, her face a look of thoughtfulness, "Is that why he's staying here..?"

She shrugged, returning to her player, "Anyway, we didn't have that movie night, so I figured tonight would be an ideal opportunity."

Fareeha nodded as Angela leaned backwards, placing her head between the pillow and Fareeha's shoulder as she lifted the small device up, still poking at it. The patient couldn't help but take in the smell of Angela's hair, which was still full from her shower, the dampness becoming present at her shoulder and cheek.

"Lavender," Fareeha noted, "You'll put me to sleep."

Angela grinned, "You like it?"

"I do," Fareeha replied slowly, turning her head to kiss Angela's wet scalp, forcing a short giggle from the doctor.

Angela finally worked the device, its screen turning dark as she held it up for the two to see. Fareeha, however, reached over and pulled it away, softly placing it on her stomach, the screen high enough for them to see. Angela smiled at the freedom and curled against her, a strong hand reaching down and wrapping as best it could around her.

"You might recognize it," Angela spoke, "You said you found my book? Well, they made a pretty terrible film based on it."

"Based on a poem?"

"Huh?"

Fareeha's eyes peered surprisingly at Angela, noticing her faux pas. Apparently, she'd been misled, but regardless, she remained quiet as the film's titles began to roll, gently tilting her head to meet Angela's, ignoring, both, her misstep and the dampness that met her cheek. She kept up with it as best she could, but between the warmth beside her and the soft scent of Angela's hair, her eyes began to weigh heavier and heavier.

Angela fell into sleep as well, the last few weeks beginning to collapse into her. She felt secure, even beside this damaged body that probably couldn't even twist aside, but it wasn't just due to Fareeha's strong body. Her heart felt safe with her knowing some of its corners, her thoughts and feels felt safe being left only with her. For a split second, she hadn't a thought.

A thought that somebody would dare threaten that only safe place she'd ever known.

* * *

Mercy's eyes began to lift open, slowly, the world around her just coming into view. She was tucked away in the warmest spot she could have imagined, her face also lost in the softly sweet sensation she knew to be Fareeha's skin, having turned further as she slept. Although she felt refreshed, she couldn't help but feel that it was too soon to awaken, as if an external force were bringing her out of slumber.

Her eyes blinked under the blinding white walls of the hospital as the world broke into focus, save for a slender, yet tall, dark figure that remained just out of her comprehension. Her head lifted to try and make it out, a dread falling over here inexplicably as the shape came into view.

"AH!" Angela shouted in a short, sudden gasp, jumping up so that she was only sitting beside the patient beside her.

Ana stared at her, unamused, "I don't recall receiving treatment such as that back in the day…"

As Fareeha roused from her own slumber, Angela stammered nervously, "I-I-It's a simply energy transference method; commonly used by the native people of-"

"I've spent time with the "native people of", Ziegler; if you're going to lie, at least do it convincingly," Ana lectured, annoyed.

Angela stepped off of the medical bed, immediately returning to rather unpleasant thoughts of this woman, her mind wandering too deeply into her past. Fareeha sleepily watched her mother, confused, as the older woman made her way around to her daughter's side.

"Vitals are fine. Minimal damage, all things considered. Still on bed-rest. Is this what an Amari does instead of returning to the fight?" she asked, authoritatively.

"Uh, I mean, I-" Fareeha began, but her mother immediately waved her hand to the side, instructively.

"Muealaq!" Ana spoke loudly in Arabic, forcing Fareeha to suddenly hold her breath, interrupting her.

Ana sighed, shaking her head as she reached for a chair to pull over, "Clearly I didn't do a good enough job raising you. Running off into the unknown, only to get shot on your first assignment. You should have been _much_ more cautious."

Angela interjected, "We had no idea that-"

"I read the reports, Ziegler," Ana shot back, again, just as annoyed as the first time, "To think you were alongside our medic as well. Honestly, with her time spent away, Winston might as well have sent two children off to complete a mission."

Angela stared at the geezer, angrily, and even Fareeha had begun to watch her heatedly as her cheeks remained full of air. Her mother finally waved her off, a burst of air coming from Fareeha as she groaned, Ana pulling out a stopwatch.

"Forty-eight seconds. At least you're keeping something in check," she quietly approved, "Honestly, the last time I saw you, Fareeha, you were accepting a promotion in the army."

"Yeah, four years ago," Fareeha muttered, though it did little to faze Ana, who returned the watch to her pocket.

The older woman sighed, seemingly oblivious to her daughter's words, "We'll begin your rehabilitation tomorrow. We'll start out slow, but you'll be jogging within a week."

Angela spoke up now, "She needs her rest."

Ana sighed, "Ziegler, I took four rounds to the back and was up in just a handful of days. Besides, you're obviously friendly; I'm sure you're simply-"

As if refusing to listen to the rest of her words, Angela shot back quickly, "I'm not saying that as anything other than a medical doctor. She. Needs. Rest. Still."

Annoyed at being talked down at, Ana waved her off, "We Amari are proud-"

"I don't give a damn how proud you are," Angela shouted, "Pride won't cure toxicity levels in the bloodstream, nor will it heal skin tissues!"

Reinhardt had begun to stir in his chairs as the conversation heated up, Angela going with her fists on her hips, "You always refused to see the obvious. Not that I'd expect you to see much of anything these days."

Ana quickly reached for the video player that had slid off of Fareeha in her sleep, but her daughter quickly held it down against the bed, Fareeha's teeth gritting in surprise as her heart sped up. Ana angrily returned to the back of her chair, staring pithily toward Angela.

"It takes a rather proud person to figure they can come and go from such a prestigious organization as Overwatch as they please, I suppose," Ana muttered, exasperated.

Angela shrugged, looking away in annoyance as a boisterous voice came from the other end of the room, Reinhardt's legs hitting the floor with a quake, "H-How are you doing, Ana?!"

As if not even knowing he was there, Ana's head whipped to the side, her face slowly growing into a knowing grin, "Not as good as you, it seems, you sea dog. You look like a million bucks."

He chuckled, waving off her compliment, "Well you look worth a million and one, my Amari. Hey! You made it just in time to come with me to the café downstairs."

Ana turned to her daughter, concerned, as Reinhardt went on, "Oh, come now, she'll be fine here. She can't run off in this state, can she? Besides, we need to catch up; it's been too long, my dear!"

Sighing, Ana stood up, "Alright, but stay still, you hear, Fareeha?!"

Fareeha nodded exaggeratingly, "YES, mother…"

Ana gave her another pensive glance as Reinhardt gallantly took her arm around his, leading her to the door as his voice rumbled the sliding door, "Now, you simply _must_ tell me how you continue to look to beautiful!"

Ana's laughter was the last thing they heard as Angela fell down into her chair, her head falling into her hands as her fingers massaged her scalp as Fareeha watched her sadly.

"Sorry," Fareeha muttered quietly.

Angela shook her head, "No, it's not you. Your mother just…"

Her headache persisting, Angela continued massaging her head slowly as Fareeha spoke up, "You two really don't like one another."

"You should have seen the action chamber back in the day," Angela groaned, "We couldn't spend a second together without her starting something."

She paused, sighing, "Well, I guess I was the instigator sometimes."

Angela picked herself back up and into her chair, rubbing the sides of her head, "It's just the differences in our ideologies; our ends are the same, I guess, but the means are about as different as a country and city toad."

She groaned again, "I mean, I see people and judge them based on their merit, whether or not they've wronged me, how good of people they are. Your mother feels as though others need to earn her respect before they can be afforded her time and patience."

"She's watched Reinhardt take .78 caliber rounds to the face, point blank, to protect his team, so that alone earns that respect. I'm just the damsel who dances in the corner, freely, until I can be bothered to run out and help periodically."

Angela shrugged with a grin, "Funny enough, if she were to watch herself, she probably wouldn't allow herself the time of day, what with all the time she sits up on rooftops, away from harm."

Fareeha sighed, "You know, that actually would make sense. My whole life has been her building me up into some super-soldier, probably so that, maybe, I can earn her respect. I can't even remember the last time she said she was proud of me."

Angela reached over, sadly, grabbing a hold of Fareeha's hand, her voice quiet, "I'm proud of you."

Fareeha smiled, grasping ahold of her hand, "That means the world to me."


	19. Uncommon Ground

A/N: I can only see this continuing for another chapter or two, after this one, before it ends; however, I had some cover art commissioned for it, so I may stretch out those releases until the art gets finished so that you guys can get a chance to see it! Admittedly, the story has probably gotten into 'filler' territory by now, but I figured this story offered a chance to explore Ana's character as well, though not at the sacrifice of the main focus of Angela and Fareeha, I hope.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the concluding chapters!

* * *

Angela and Ana stood on opposite sides of Fareeha's bed, with Reinhardt and Winston also there. Fareeha watched the scene, nervous at her being the center of attention, but Angela gently patted her shoulder as she pulled over a pair of headphones and a sleep mask.

"Here," she spoke, "These will keep you from seeing or hearing what we're saying. You don't need to be any more worried than you already are."

Ana rolled her eyes at the, what she perceived to be, coddling, but Fareeha took the items readily, slipping on the mask as Angela slipped down the screen of her .mp3 player, "Well, classical, Romanian pop, or Finnish alternative; there's also-"

"Grunge" Fareeha frowned, "Might fight the mood somewhat."

Angela sighed sadly, selecting the correct music before adjusting the volume and placing it onto the table. She had only now realized that she hadn't seen her body since recovering from her coma, which explained her apprehension. She slowly grasped at the blanket that sat atop her lover's body, slowly pulling down her torso, revealing her plain green hospital shirt.

"Okay, it'll only _look_ grim," Angela reminded, "Winston and I both think that, with time, it should improve."

"Just…" Ana began, noticeably worried, if only slightly, "…just show me already."

Angela eyed Winston, who nodded to her, slowly, and she gently pulled up Fareeha's shirt, just enough to where Ana could see most of the damage. The older woman didn't move, but she didn't speak either, which Angela knew was a much larger sign of her surprise.

Pelted against Fareeha's lightly tan skin, black spots encircled small holes where the shrapnel had exited. Her stomach almost resembled a target range dummy with just how many black spots had been littered around her skin. Other than those lay the small scars Angela had left when she'd cut into her to remove the shrapnel within her.

Seeing them again made her shudder, and she crossed her arms so her hand could reach up and meet her lips, her eyes gazing down reluctantly, "The, uh…"

Winston graciously took over as his eyes left Angela's face, his hand pointing out as he spoke, "It seems that Reaper's bullets were laced with toxins to ensure a kill, even with an unsuccessful attempt at a life, but from all things we've considered, Gabriel Reyes _was_ killed, and has been seen as something more ghost than man, so who knows what this is. We know it acts like a toxin, so we've been treating it as such, and it's been working so far as we can tell."

"Angela, here," Winston directed, "Probably saved her life by being there to pull out the pieces that were embedded rather deep."

Ana hadn't moved since he'd begun, and even now, she only stared down, blankly, at her daughter's body, "Will she recover?"

"Oh, of course," Winston assured, "I mean, if what's been done so far is any indication. Surely, it's somewhat far more intensive than anything you, yourself, could quickly recover from, Ana."

Ana shrugged at the compliment, but Reinhardt's massive hand patted her back, "Do not be afraid, Amari. Angela's the best in the business, and Winston's mind is like an apple; efficient, great for people, and surprisingly sweet!"

Winston held his head, "If only your compliments were as strong as your armor, Rein…"

Reinhardt gave him a thumbs up as Ana spoke up, quietly, "Angela…"

Angela's ears suddenly perked up as she looked up toward Ana, apathetically, as she spoke, "This all isn't just some scheme to get back at me, is it?"

Slightly annoyed, Angela replied, "If I recall, one day you told me that my ideas weren't worth much more than the mud underneath your shoes. I do believe, the very next day, I removed a rather persistent Omnic bullet from your arm before it could dissolve into your muscles and paralyze you."

"So, to answer your question, no, it's not a scheme," Angela muttered, "One of those ideas that aren't worth more than the mud beneath your shoes happens to be my Hippocratic Oath, you know."

Ana sighed, lowly, as she spun to leave, not bothering to leave a thanks, which Angela probably preferred at that point. Reinhardt followed her out as Winston groaned aloud, reaching over to grab a towel to wipe his face.

"This has gone on, what, ten? fifteen years now?" Winston sighed, shaking his head.

Angela watched him unamused, "I get along with Torby just fine, if you recall. She's the common denominator in all this, not me."

Winston shrugged, "Yes, but even if that's true, you two now have something even more than Overwatch binding you two together."

Angela turned to Fareeha, sadly, watching her head gently bump up and down to the beat as Winston continued, "I don't wish to assume how deep your relationship goes, but regardless, if Ana decides this to be a catalyst in her being a larger part of her daughter's life, you two will have to get along and bury a few things."

"And," Winston went on, "As long as Reinhardt's here, that can only help you two do that. That's probably why he showed up and has stayed so long."

Angela grinned lightly, "I thought the same thing."

"Then you know how much of his own life he's putting aside just to take care of his little lady and his Amari," Winston reminded, "I, however, have to be getting back to Gibralter. Nothing like being shot into a whole other universe to get you motivated to retaliate, I suppose."

Winston turned to leave, the two saying their goodbyes before Angela finally began pulling off Fareeha's headgear, her face lifting up to look around, surprised, "Where'd everyone go?"

"Out, for now," Angela sighed, sitting down beside Fareeha, close enough to the headboard so that she could lean against it, "Hey, Fareeha."

She looked up toward Angela, "What's up?"

"You, uh…" she paused, as if attempting to find what to say, "Do you want a relationship with your mother?"

Fareeha looked away, sighing, "I mean, yeah, but… I don't know; to say it's complicated would be an understatement. It's kind of funny; despite how much I resented her running off all the time growing up, I ran off to the same place as she did."

She shrugged, "Maybe it's just another psychology thing; like Overwatch is the only way I could feel close to her or something. Why do you ask?"

Angela clutched her lips tightly, as if her next words would be painful, "It's just… I love you, right? And I already said I refused to prevent you from following your dreams. I mean, you freaking got me to join back in, for crying out loud."

Fareeha grinned at her words, but Angela cringed slightly as she went on, "And I certainly don't want to be in the way of you and your mother, so… If I love you, and want to be with you, and not in between you two, I guess I'll just have to get along with…her."

"I mean, as long as you're wanting to!" Angela stipulated, as though attempting to craft one escape route.

Fareeha chuckled, "Wow, you really do love me, huh?"

Angela groaned, hiding her face as Fareeha continued with a smile, "I'll just have to see what she wants, or what she's willing to do. I promised I would stick by and protect you, and I wholly mean that, still."

Angela smiled as she looked away, attempting to change the subject as she grabbed at her shirt to cover her stomach again, "Just hush, alright?"

Fareeha chuckled again, leaving Angela to become mesmerized by her incredibly defined stomach, her hand reaching over to gently rest atop of her. Fareeha looked down curiously, though Angela simply held her hand there, as if making amends for leaving a scar on such a beauteous surface. Her hand had covered up of the dark patches left by the toxins, trying to escape from its view.

"Thank you," Fareeha spoke up, "For keeping me alive and all. I guess you, uh, heard the little message I stuck in there, just in case I, you know…"

"Had you so little faith in me?" Angela turned to her with a smile.

Fareeha shrugged, "I was just inspired by your show of protection, even in death. You know what they say about imitation, right?"

Angela laughed, lightly, "I'd prefer your sweet nothings if you're looking for flattery."

Fareeha gave her a knowing grin as the doctor returned to looking at her stomach, "I used to be the cold one, you know."

"Yeah, your hand kind of burns now, my body is so cold there," Fareeha noted.

Angela examined the area around her hand, which hadn't moved, the black area around it seeming to have faded slightly. She slid her hand away to find that her hand had left a sort of imprint; where her hand had been left a faded, yet still prominent, area of tan skin.

"Well how about that," Angela pointed out as Fareeha peered down at herself, curiously.

Angela chuckled to herself faintly, shaking her head, "So many toxins and viruses thrive in hot environments; I guess this one's the opposite to throw people off."

"Just a theory," she noted to herself, quietly, "Though I can't say I'm not ready to test it out further."

Fareeha watched her nervously as Angela's other hand reached down to hold against her skin, the burning sensation becoming rather comforting, like a heating pad on a tight muscle. Fareeha managed to reach down as her eyes closed, her hand holding still atop of Angela's, the doctor smiling at the thought.

* * *

Reinhardt carefully balanced a tray of food as he attempted to reach into his pocket for his wallet, though Ana's hand gently patted his back before allowing itself to reach into his pocket for him, "You can't do everything, you know."

He grinned as he returned both hands to the tray, "Surely you don't mean that, my Amari! Why, I do believe I've managed quite a lot in my days."

Ana smirked as she handed her own credit card to the cashier, ignoring Reinhardt's wallet in her other hand, "You do seem to be getting around. Is being my knight in shining armor not enough? you have to be everybody's?"

Reinhardt laughed, causing the cashier to stumble backward a step or two from the sheer blast of energy, "My dear, were it so easy to belong to you."

"Well, to be sure," Ana laughed, "I am not one easily wrangled up, you see."

Reinhardt gave her a wink, "I do recall a tale you once wove, about as finely as the lace upon the velvet mask in which you wore within it!"

"Ahem," came Angela's voice, her fist held up to her mouth as though simply clearing her throat.

The cashier even breathed a sigh of relief, though it only served him to be knocked back again as Reinhardt shouted, "Angela! Welcome to my headquarters in this here hospital!"

He poi ted at the cashier, who'd taken to staring at him angrily, "This boy makes the finest chicken salad sandwiches; I do believe I'll be taking some home with me!"

Satisfied with his words, the cashier shrugged and handed over the receipt, the frustration having melted from his face. Unenthused herself, Ana walked off, alone, toward a table, leaving Reinhardt and Angela at the register, trying to juggle his wallet and the tray of food.

"What brings you here, my dear?" Reinhardt asked as Angela waved him along, wallet in hand.

"Well, uh, her," she muttered, motioning toward Ana with her head, a noticeable and sarcastic nod coming from the old woman.

Reinhardt's voice seethed as if understanding how bad of an idea it was, but he remained optimistic, "Well, uh, I'll just sit with you two, then. It wouldn't be the first time I've, er, referee'd."

Angela nodded, "Surely you can handle holding back two mountains colliding with one another."

With another wink, Reinhardt held up a finger, poignantly, "Wouldn't be the first time! Why, I do remember Torb and Jack getting into a tussle; if not for my steady, yet strong, grasp, I do believe Jack would have gotten that poor man into that hadron collider."

Angela blinked incredulously, though her face became firm as she sat down across from Ana, with Reinhardt sitting between the two. As though making himself small, he simply bent over his food, carefully peeling back the plastic wrap, silently.

Ana's fingers clacked against the table as she stared down at the table, "So, am I supposed to guess why you needed to see me?"

Fighting to retort with another slight, Angela simply held her lips tightly, replying calmly, "Okay, look. I care tremendously about your daughter, and it would mean a lot to her…and me…if we could get along."

Ana stared at her, narrowly, wholly unimpressed, though she fi ally sighed, "I suppose you do have a point there, Ziegler."

She leaned onto the table, staring at Angela, unenthused, "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

"W-What?!" Angela shot out, nervously, leaning back in her chair.

"What, are you trying to use her to get back to me?" Ana questioned, "Maybe you're just looking for a fling, or just wanting some cheap companionship before running off again? What's your angle here?"

Angela stared at her, shocked, the fury within her burning hot enough that even Reinhardt seemed to take notice as his hands slowly crept toward the center of the table, ready to stretch out to stop with of them.

"I- You-…How…" Angela sputtered, trying to figure out, both, what was exactly said, and how to even respond, "I love that woman! I wouldn't dare leave her!"

Ana shrugged, "You did claim the same thing, once. You come and go from Overwatch; I wouldn't be surprised to see you do the same with my daughter. If it were up to me-"

"But it's not," Angela reminded, angrily.

Ana stared her down, pithily, "If it were up to me, she wouldn't be getting with anybody."

Angela eyed her suspiciously, and even Reinhardt had slowly turned toward her, Ana's eye narrowing seriously, "I've had everything and anything done to my body these last sixty years, but nothing hurts more than letting somebody get that close to you and then tearing you apart."

Her voice had grown gravely as she'd spoken, though her face remained stone cold, not a single hint of a tear presenting itself, "I've spent half my life protecting my daughter, and I'd be damned if I allowed somebody to do to her what her father did to me. I'd hoped raising her to be strong and independent would have turned others off, or kept her self-sufficient, but…"

She looked away, annoyed, "Obviously that wasn't the case."

Angela watched her pitifully, her eyes turning in sadness as she spoke up, quietly, "Ana, I-"

She paused, thinking for a brief moment, "…but you never forced either of us apart."

Ana's eye rolled, "Well, that girl could do much worse."

Reinhardt sighed, turning to Angela, "She respects you more than she would even lead you to believe, dear."

"Rein, dear, that's enough," Ana bit, venomously.

Angela leaned forward, as if about to pounce, her voice as steady as a river, "That necklace…"

Ana's eye shot suddenly toward Angela, the doctor's gaze remaining at her neck, "Let me see it."

Scoffing loudly, Ana shrugged, "And what will that prove?"

"C'mon grandma," Angela answered, trying to lure her into biting back.

Sure enough, Ana reached up, pulling the leather strap up and over her head, tossing it across the table right in front of Angela, who carefully examined it as she picked it up. It was the exact same as Fareeha's; the one she'd seen so long ago. Before. Before she'd given her heart away so carelessly. Before her cold life had become warm again.

"It's just a measly trinket I bought in Cairo," Ana explained, annoyingly, "I thought it looked nice. Reminded me of my Rein-Heart."

The giant man smirked toward her as Angela's head dipped low, hiding a grin of her own, holding the necklace out over the table, "I've seen this symbol before. It's no mere trinket; you know that."

Ana eyed her ruthlessly as Angela lifted her head, meeting her gaze with an equally piercing stare, "It means protection…in peace. Not only did you give the same thing to your daughter, but you bought another for yourself."

Reinhardt couldn't help but admire the piece of jewelry as Angela continued, heatedly, "Now that we both know who inspired who…"

Ana sighed, relinquishing her stare as she tilted her head backward, "Ziegler, I admire your tenacity. Even now, when I'd rather not face it. Sure, you have no idea how the world works, but at the end of the day, you fight in your own way, and apparently to the death."

She turned away, staring off with a near-painful glance, "You know, you have no idea what it's like to raise a child. You spend so many years learning this person who so much admires you, wants to be you… Then, almost suddenly, it's all they can do to get away from you; they become completely different people. Their own people."

"That child still has some rebellion in her, "Ana surmised, ironically, "As evidenced by just a few weeks ago- leaving the military to run off toward Overwatch. I can't help but think, that rebellion, matched with your tenacity…"

For the first time in the twenty or so years that Angela had known this woman, Ana revealed a grin to her, and only her, "I can't help but believe that to be the scariest thing imaginable to me."

Angela's lips turned in dismay at her words, but she understood how lightly she meant it, her hand gently reaching over to latch atop of Ana's, carefully, "Come on. Even in that 'rebellion', I guess…she couldn't help but go off just to be like her mother."

Ana stared down at the table, attempting to disguise a light chuckle as Angela continued, "If I have to prove to you, every day, that I won't leave her, that's a challenge I'm willing to accept. Besides, if my tenacity is any indication, I'll keep her in line for you, if anything else."

Ana nodded with a smile, "Yes…I do suppose you'll keep her safe. You've done it once before, I guess; you can do it again."

"Hey," Angela reminded, "She saved me first. from myself. An eye for an e-"

Her eyes shot up to Ana, horrified, but the old woman simply began a laughter, shaking her head, "These old bones may yet be dust, but my heart isn't that fragile, yet, to take offense to that."

The two suddenly noticed Reinhardt, who'd been curled up, more or less, within himself, trying to hold back tears, though a soft sniffle had alerted the other two. Ana quickly stood up and rushed to his side, doing as much as she could to hug him, though only coming about half-way, she settled on patting his back.

"Now, now, dear…" she cooed lightly.

Reinhardt whimpered as his voice cried out, "Never in a million years did I expect such a reunion!"

Angela smiled endearingly at the man, patting his hand as Ana continued rubbing his back, Reinhardt trying desperately to compose himself. And could only sigh lightly to herself as she went on comforting the man.

"I can only imagine how everyone else's reaction will be…"

Angela smiled apprehensively at the thought, though her head tilted to the side to stare past the two toward the door, seeing Fareeha there, of all people, desperately clinging onto her pair of crutches. Angela shot up in her seat, causing the other two to quickly check where she was looking.

"Fareeha!" Angela shouted loudly, though her lover only gave her a weak grin alongside a heavied thumbs up.

"Proud…Amari…" she groaned before nearly collapsing on the spot.

Reinhardt dashed over and caught her, the two crutched bracing her fall as she slid down between them, Ana's voice breaking through the air, "What do you think you're doing?!"

Fareeha wearily looked up at her, "But I thought…"

Ana groaned, "You listen to the good doctor, you hear?"

Reinhardt and Fareeha both looked toward Angela, confused, who was staring much the same way toward Ana, the old sniper lifting her finger toward the door, "Well don't just stand there, Rein; she needs her rest!"

"Y-Yes!" he shouted aloud, carefully taking her into his arms as he began.

"I swear," Ana muttered under hear breath, "This child will be the death of me…"

Angela followed behind, albeit much slower than the others, simply due to her level of shock at what exactly had occurred. In wanting to break a single barrier, simply to get a shoe in the door with Ana, she seemed to have shattered many more, her mind a mass of confusion that she could only hope to sort out, here, as she walked.


	20. Raining from Above

Fareeha's teeth gritted against themselves as Reinhardt tried his best to lay her down gently, slowly sliding his arms from underneath her, even his voice quieting to ensure she wasn't further disrupted, "Well, there's no questioning the girl's resilience."

"Or her hard-headedness," Angela noted as she quickly returned the IV back where Fareeha had removed it to get up.

Frowning, Fareeha replied aloud, "I'm fine now; all the toxin's gone and-"

"And you just collapsed downstairs," Ana reminded, exasperatingly.

Fareeha rolled her eyes, "You literally just said earlier that I needed to-!"

"Muealaq," Ana muttered, not as loudly as she'd done before, but Fareeha still immediately held her breath, her eyes peering angrily at the wall, her Pavlovian mind on full display.

Groaning, Ana turned to Angela, who replied with a look of her own, though she had no idea what to say as Ana continued, "Okay Fareeha, I've had a lot to think about in just the last hour. Well, the last two weeks if you want to get technical, but…"

She sighed, sitting down beside her daughter as she collected her thoughts, "Have you ever wondered why my one eye happens to be the one adorned with the wedjat?"

Fareeha stared at her mother's face, a muffled collection of noises coming from her still-closed mouth, Ana waving her hand across the bed as she muttered, "'iitlaq sarah, dear."

Her daughter released her breath suddenly, taking a moment to regain her tempo of breathing as she shook her head, "Not really, no."

"Well," Ana began, patting her legs matter-of-factly as she did, "Like any good sniper of my caliber, you never reveal more of yourself than you have to. So, of course, all I needed to be revealed was my scope; that is to say, I had this tattooed onto the wrong eye. Assuming, of course, it is, indeed, meant to protect myself."

Fareeha watched her, confused, as her mother paused for a moment, rubbing her hand slowly up and down her leg, "Now, I'm not particularly religious, but I am quite the hypocrite, sad to say. I came in here wanting you on your feet when, the truth is, after I lost my eye, I was on bedrest for much longer than necessary."

She held her thumb over her shoulder, "It, surprisingly, was Dr. Ziegler who signed off on my continuing stay."

Fareeha quickly turned to Angela, who grinned nervously, waving her fingers as her arms were crossed, "Ex-Overwatch business. I couldn't exactly refuse, despite my feelings at the time."

Ana's daughter looked back toward her mother, "That actually makes sense. I saw you the day after and you seemed more annoyed than hurt."

"Eh," Ana groaned, putting a diffusing smile on, "I mean- I don't enjoy seeking out help. Anyway!"

Angela turned away, knowing that her reaction was much more severe than how she'd described, but she appreciated her attempt at not stoking any flames. Ana sighed aloud, reaching out to hold her daughter's hand.

"That all isn't the point. I spent whole nights in that hospital bed, wondering so deeply whether or not I could even protect myself anymore, much less any others. Then I realized that, all that I offered, to anybody, had been lost. I wasn't a good mother, but I kept you safe- from harm and from others, sadly. I obviously wasn't a good diplomat when it came to Overwatch, but no matter how many quarrels occurred, I never once thought to not protect a fellow operative out in the field."

She rolled Fareeha's hand back and forth as she rubbed her hand across it, "You've been given a tremendous gift, dear. You've an iron will, and you protect those you love 'till the bitter end. That sort of loyalty is in short supply these days; believe me, your father taught me that lesson very well. But I want you to remember, you don't need to shoulder that burden constantly; not when you have others around you, just as strong, willing to carry it alongside you."

Ana nodded, "I actually saw the tapes of your exercises when you first came on. That first one, you were so technical, almost to a fault. You were like a cog so focused on moving the wheels that you strip the very ridges that perform that task."

"Gee, thanks mom," Fareeha groaned, but her mother only grinned in reply.

"But then I saw your later tapes, when you had Angela out there with you, and then later, when I read the reports from the Ilios mission. Without support, you become easily overwhelmed; it's nothing to be ashamed of. But when you had help, not only did it boost your spirits, it also honed that part of your heart that refuses to fail- and what a powerful part it is."

"Hard-headedness," Angela muttered, nodding her head knowingly.

Ana chuckled, just lightly, "Well, call it what you will. I wasted my life, dear, protecting myself from others. Even my fighting style- perhaps I chose it to stay away and protected even from my allies in the field. I just don't want you doing the same as me."

Fareeha eyed her suspiciously, "Uh, wait; are you giving…us…your blessing?"

Ana peered off thoughtfully, "I don't think I've gotten _that_ far yet, but…I suppose, essentially. From what I can tell, Angela's last thought was to rejoin Overwatch, yet she did it, without a thought, to protect you. I'd say that's worth, at least, a try."

Fareeha turned to Angela, who smiled down on her from above, reaching over to hold onto her other hand, pulling up and against her cheek as she bent down closer. As their eyes wandered into the others', the scruff voice of Reinhardt suddenly emerged.

"Okay, now hold it, just one minute. There's something I'm still not too clear on; Ana, you seriously don't think there's anybody out there prepared to protect you?!"

Turned away from him, Ana grinned quietly to herself as she replied, "Well, I suppose I could think of one person in particular…"

Reinhardt quickly took to his feet, stomping toward Ana to help her to her feet, caressing her back as he stared down at her, "This is something that desperately needs to be resolved. I wouldn't dare allow harm to my desert flower; my oasis; my queen of the dunes!"

Ana made a noise that could have resembled a giggle as the giant man led her toward the door, "This is an issue only coffee can solve! That, and perhaps a dance. You know, 'Hoff has some slow songs as well; I suppose I could manage to find one more to your liking, my dear."

Ana chuckled nervously, "Let's just stick with some of the classics, why don't we?"

Reinhardt laughed heartily as the two left the room though, for the duration of the time since their eyes had met, Angela and Fareeha hadn't dared look away from one another.

"Hard-headed?" Fareeha asked, quietly.

Angela scoffed lightly, "Dear, you wouldn't leave me the hell alone until I fell for you. Not that I'm anything less that ecstatic that you did so."

Grinning lightly, Fareeha went on, "Well, I mean, the higher I flew, the harder I had to fall when I first saw you."

"I guess I can do cheesy as well," Angela nodded, rubbing her thumb along Fareeha's hand.

"Just call it sweet _and_ savory," Fareeha smirked, goofily, though Angela stared down toward her, unimpressed.

"Okay," Angela managed through her blank face, "You obviously need more rest."

She tried pulling her hand away, but Fareeha gently turned the tables on her, clutching her hand instead, pulling her back toward the bed, her eyes tracking her devilishly, "I believe we were in the middle of a nap, love."

Angela turned toward the door, nervously, before shrugging as she crawled back into the bed, sitting back beside Fareeha's head against the headboard, "Okay, but only if you're a good patient and you don't go walking around when you don't need to be."

"Yes, doctor," Fareeha sighed, "I may just have to go on home then, what with this totalitarian regime of a medical regiment."

Angela eyed her with a grin, "I _would_ make house calls, given the circumstances."

"Oh, be still my heart."

Grinning softly, Angela turned her body to the side, starring down at Fareeha, whose eyes faithfully followed hers as a weak and unsure voice revealed itself, "I'll always keep our bed warm for you. You don't deserve to be cold anymore."

Angela leaned her head down, warmly planting a kiss on Fareeha's forehead, "You're always the one wanting to be out there, reigning over the battlefield or whatever; that childish, nervous smile of yours hiding behind that distant look of determination."

"When we're alone," Angela noted, her hand meeting Fareeha's, their fingers entwining as their eyes did much the same, "I'll be the one to reign from above, raining kisses and sweetly teasing words down onto you."

Fareeha grimaced nervously, "I could do without that last part."

Angela leaned down, her hand escaping Fareeha's in order to hold her cheek as their lips met, just before Angela's left, training kissing up to her nose, onto each eyelid, leaving behind a soft warmth that certainly wasn't a blush from Fareeha.

"Maybe I'll try it," Fareeha nodded, "Just a little."

From Angela's position of kissing her forehead, all Fareeha could see was her wide, lightly giggling mouth, her beautiful chin that danced down her graceful neck, all melting into her wonderfully niveous skin. She wanted nothing more than to be forever lost alongside this person, within this person.


	21. Party for a Newly Seasoned Vet

Fareeha stood gallantly, a regal stance having taken her, just outside the terminal, the gigantic Windows lining the airport giving her the best view to see the large jet wheeling toward the gate. She carefully examined her suit, rubbing out a wrinkle or two, before checking the bouquet for the fifth time, hurriedly picking off another petal or flower that she'd suddenly thought was astray, despite it being fine the previous times.

Her heart sped up as the aircraft stopped, the long tunnel extending outward toward the door, and she checked her watch. Twenty minutes late, but it wouldn't be too bad, given their future method of transportation. She figured it would take five minutes of hugging, ten minutes to get Angela's luggage, another seven to exit the airport, and an even two minutes to find and load said luggage into the car.

Still, Fareeha couldn't help but sigh deeply at the idea of being late, knowing she wouldn't live it down for the rest of the day. The thought vanished, quickly, as the gates doors opened, passengers beginning to pour out into the terminal. Fareeha swallowed nervously, quickly grabbing the bouquet with her other hand and running her fingers through her hair, just as quickly stopping once she noticed Angela in the dark corridor.

As she left, Angela's blank face suddenly softened into a subdued smile, her face bashfully turning away as she took quick, deliberate steps toward Fareeha, who smiled back, feeling rather heated as her nerves ran like tremors through her.

"Three years and you're still trying to impress me?" Angela asked with a smirk, examining Fareeha from head to toe.

Scratching her face with her free hand, Fareeha put on a goofy smile, "I, uh- I mean, you know; you're worth me being presentable. Did you, uh, sleep well?"

Angela sighed, bending down to push the handle of her luggage down into itself, "I tried; it's difficult to ride for hours when you're used to it taking a few minutes."

Fareeha held her hand out, which Angela took, confused, the taller of the two pulling Angela over into her torso, holding her close as she watched her, seriously, "Of course. You slept on the red eye when you should have been sleeping atop of me."

Angela's eyes shook as she stared up into Fareeha's, though the soldier only gave her the slightest of kisses before leaning over to lift up her luggage, Angela nearly pleading, "A-Are you just going to stop there?"

Fareeha laughed, "Airport, dear. You'll have to get used to it anyway if we'll be at mother's all weekend. You won't exactly be able to wrap yourself around me the whole time."

Angela pouted as she clutched her arm, wrapping her own pair and nearly dragging Fareeha down, "Why didn't we decide on a secluded beach like we did last year?"

Sighing, Fareeha muttered under her breath, "I mean, I only be driven so close to hysteria so often."

Angela cackled, alongside a wry smile, "I love making you melt, though."

Fareeha forcibly pulled her tight against her body, her face reddening in the crowded airport, "Would you hush, please? Somebody will hear!"

Angela giggled, but took the opportunity to brush her head up against Fareeha's body, having missed it so much the last two weeks, the recipient of which sighed, "I guess it's no surprise you're so worked up."

"And you're not?" Angela asked, sincerely, "Words cannot express how much I missed you. Only my actions can."

Fareeha shuddered lightly, "I- Of course I missed you, I just…have more control I suppose. Besides, we have to get going; we're going to be late if we don't hurry. Your plane just decided to slow up and take away any attempt at casual travel at a normal pace."

"Oh please," Angela rolled her eyes, "Ever since she and Rein got together, she hardly even realizes when people show up. Don't tell me you're-"

She was just throwing crap out there, but when Fareeha's face turned to stare ahead, distantly, Angela's mouth taped open, "You are!"

"I am not," Fareeha groaned, "What do I even have to be jealous about?"

Angela giggled under her breath as the two walked out toward the baggage claim. Fareeha remained composed, her arms crossed as Angela remained as close as possible against her. She carefully watched the varying array of luggage checking around the carousel as her head pushed further and further into Fareeha's side as her arm wrapped skillfully around her.

"Hey," Angela spoke up softly, Fareeha's head devotedly turned down toward her, "If I were on there, you'd still pick me out, would you?"

"Without a doubt," Fareeha assured, instantly, "Baggage and all."

Angela smiled up at her, "Just checking. Speaking of checking, we need to be checking out of here soon."

"That's what I was-!" Fareeha groaned into a pause, knowing Angela had planned that reaction from her, "You're lucky you're so beautiful."

Angela grinned, "You always tease the one you love, right?"

At that, she turned back toward the carousel with a bright smile, still attached to her love. In a split second however, her face turned to shock as she jumped up in surprise, feeling a pinch in a place she never would have expected in public. Her face shot upward, Fareeha taking her turn to grin.

"Huh, I guess it's true."

Angela bowed her head embarrassingly as her two suitcases came around the metal slats, Fareeha diligently taking them both, leaving only the small carry-on for Angela, who was still fighting the warmth on her face as she shook her head. The two walked toward the exits with something of a pep in their walk, now distraction free that their hands were all occupied at the moment.

"Okay," Fareeha sighed, a slight breathlessness due to her gait, "We were supposed to be there…three minutes ago, so-"

"Calm down," Angela reassured her, able to speak clearer with her simple luggage, "Ana will understand; she's a sniper, for crying out loud; all she does it wait."

Fareeha gritted her teeth as they passed the sliding doors, "Yes, but all that patience works out into being the opposite when it's not necessary to sit still for days. Just last year! I was late with a text message and she sent Lena over to make sure I did fifty push-ups!"

"I mean, she didn't threaten to stand on top of you as you did it," Angela noted, surprising even herself that she was defending Fareeha's mother.

"No, because that was you," Fareeha replied, pithily, "In fact, you sat on top of me while I did them, eating ice cream."

Angela turned to her sadly, "I gave you a few bites."

Fareeha grinned as she heaved the two suitcases into the trunk of the vehicle, just now realizing its model, "Wait, a limo?"

Angela shrugged, "Gotta show up in style, right? Mei-Ling is gonna flip a lid, but hey."

She reached over excitedly to grab Fareeha by the hand, pulling her toward the open door as if she'd never been in a limousine before. Pushing Fareeha in, she quickly followed along, closing the door as the engine began to churn, the car moving at a steady pace.

"Wow," Fareeha nodded, "Spacious. You did good, love; I've never been in one of these before."

She jumped as her elbow accidentally hit a button that shot a can of soda out from one of the consoles, quickly grabbing it out of the air and returning her stare to the vehicle, now with a hint of skepticism.

They sat down across from each other, and while Fareeha examined the interior with a curiosity, Angela simply stared at her lover's face, her legs crossed, the highest of which rhythmically bounced atop the other, slowly.

"There's a tv, some sort of wine cab- Is that a tape deck?!" Fareeha asked as she leaned over toward the front of the vehicle, her hand rummaging through the various cubbies and slotted doors.

So incensed in her curiosity was she that the light tug at the back of her shirt felt like a sudden yank, her head turning as Angela slowly pulled her back over toward the seat so that she could sit back down.

"Fareeha, dear," she muttered, agitated, as she looked down toward her watch, "I've done every single calculation known to mankind that could adequately determine the amount of free time we have at this very moment. We have fifteen minutes travel time, given the light traffic. I'm fully prepared to spend that time with you."

Fareeha turned red at her determination, turning toward the front window toward the driver's cabin, though Angela spoke up for her, "Auto-pilot. I made sure of it."

Still somewhat nervous, Fareeha sat still, though it wasn't enough for Angela, who shifted forward out of her set, crawling onto Fareeha, her thighs at her sides as she straddled her on the seat, her hands reaching up to hold her cheeks, directing them up toward her so that she could smile brightly for her.

"I think traffic just got a bit heavier," Fareeha muttered absently, transfixed by the giggle that escaped Angela's lips as the doctor pulled out her phone to reroute the vehicle.

"Wow, at a standstill," she frowned playfully, "Looks like we'll be sitting here no later than an hour."

"How will we ever pass the time?" Fareeha asked with a grin, her hands running up the length of Angela's stomach as the doctor shook lightly with a shiver.

Suddenly, Fareeha reached around her, grasping her and spinning to the side, forcing Angela underneath her onto the leather seat beneath them. Fareeha lifted herself up, her knee dug into the seat while her other leg remained on the floor, Angela laying between them as she stared up toward the suited up soldier with a coy smirk.

"I told you I would be the one to watch over you," she grinned.

Fareeha's hands reached up, quickly unbuttoning her shirt as she replied, "The view was just too nice from up here."

Angela let out a laugh as Fareeha leaned forward, their lips joining within that joyous sound.

Fareeha tugged at her collar as she tried her best to adjust to her clothing, groaning angrily in annoyance, "This thing is so uncomfortable now."

Angela turned to her, "I told you to take it off completely; it would have helped, you know. You were trying to be like James Bond or something, though."

* * *

Fareeha shrugged helplessly as she tugged at various parts of her shirt, the condition not exactly helped by the Cairo heat. Leaving the luggage behind, the two were heading up the walkway toward Ana's home, though it easily had become hers and Reinhardt's with how often he'd been by. Still a stalwart defender of her own independence, however, Ana continued sending her lover off back to Europe, which was still needed anyway, given Overwatch's official reinstatement.

Sure enough, Reaper had indeed retaliated, leading an assault upon Overwatch's Gibraltar facility, hindered only by Winston, who successfully repelled the invasion. Deciding that Overwatch's membership would be safer together than disjoined, he decided to finally call them back to service, though the organization was still seen with apprehension.

With its reinstatement, many old members, some of whom had gone off to do their own things, too lost in their individual missions to stay in touch, had returned to the fold, including the aforementioned scientist, Mei-Ling, who was in the area anyway to study the heated climate. While Fareeha was expecting just a normal visit home, Angela knew much better, but held her tongue, at least in terms of conversation.

As the two approached the door, Fareeha finally gave up on adjusting her clothing, sighing in defeat, "I'm so glad we don't live here. It's fine if it's all you know, but once you stay in a temperate climate, you're a goner."

Angela nodded, "I'm sure it won't be too bad once we get indoors. Are you sure you don't need a handkerchief to wipe your face?"

Fareeha thought for a moment before accepting, "Yeah, I guess. Everybody will be looking at you anyway, but I might as well make the effort."

Angela happily spun around, her dress twirling as she went along, before she noted sweetly, "But I'll be looking at you, dear."

Fareeha grinned, glibly, as she stepped up to the door, shaking her head as she leaned in close to the peephole to use it as a tiny mirror, wiping her face as she spoke, "What am I going to do with y-"

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing Fareeha to dip backward, grasping ahold of the door to steady herself as she looked around behind it, sewing Reinhardt there with the biggest of smiles.

"HELLO!" he shouted, reaching out to grab Angela's hand before quickly doing the same for Fareeha, "I take it your trips went well?"

"Yes! …sir!" Fareeha shouted, boisterously, having taken to such honorifics now that Overwatch had returned, though she'd been told, most specifically by Jack, to knock it off.

Reinhardt still got a kick out of it however, and he simply laughed as he heard it, waving the two women in, "Now I have to warn you; the lights seem to have gone out. I'll try and fix them, but I've already…"

He wandered to the light switch as Fareeha examined the room, suspiciously, while entering it. Angela grinned devilishly as she crossed her arms, watching her advance until the lights switched on, revealing a large group of people standing in the living room.

"Surprise!" they shouted, except for the obvious sight of Morrison simply standing there.

Fareeha jumped, clutching at her chest as she turned back at Angela, who only shrugged with that same devious smirk, "Surprise?"

The newbie turned back around as the veterans all crowded around her, talking all at once until Winston finally got ahold of everybody, "Ev-Everybody! Listen up, now. A word from our first commander, perhaps?"

Fareeha quickly followed the white headed man who turned, slowly, toward Winston, as if surprised, "Seriously?"

Winston laughed, "I figured it appropriate, yes?"

Jack groaned, gruffly, shaking his head before turning toward Fareeha, "Eh, good job kid."

"YEAH!" came the voice of Lena, though her whereabouts couldn't be certain in the small crowd of people.

"Oh, come on Morrison," Reinhardt shouted, boisterously, from the side.

"Ugh," Jack groaned once more, "You were still a kid when we started this whole thing, and… I mean, for you to see what we did, and for your life to lead up to this point, with you so dedicated to what we value so dearly. I guess it sort of puts our influence into perspective."

He managed his way over through the small cluster of bodies, Fareeha's face lowering in reverence as he stood in front of her, scruffily speaking, "Head up, kid; come on."

Instantly, Fareeha shot up, sadly, staring into the face of a man she'd known to be so young. He had aged almost seventy years, she could have thought, but despite his age, the scars, and his near-lifeless gaze, she could still see that same flame she saw sighing everybody she'd met in Overwatch. That same flame she felt in herself; the fuel that drives people to death in pursuit of their ideals.

Jack raised his hand, though Fareeha could only stare at it with a wry smile, "I've been waiting many, many years for this."

She raised her own, taking his in a handshake, happily smiling at him. She suddenly pulled his arm toward her for a hug, but in a split second, the man recoiled in pain, yanking his arm back into his body as he knelt down.

"GAH!" he shouted, excruciatingly, as Fareeha hurried down herself to check on him.

"C-Commander!" she shouted, horrified, "Are- Are you okay?!"

Suddenly, she paused, a tiny, empty laugh coming from the man as he turned toward her with a grin, "I'm just fuckin' with ya. How old do you think I am?"

Fareeha stood up, relief mixing with horror, as she covered her forehead, "Okay, not fun."

Jack smiled as he returned to his feet as well, leaning over to hug her anyway, "Good having you aboard, Pharah."

Fareeha hugged him back, forcefully patting his back in some sort of revenge as the other members of the organization crowded around the two of them, full of delight and curiosity at the newest recruit. Fareeha nervously took it all in, her head turning to find Angela, though she wasn't where she had left her. Sadly, she returned to the crowd surrounding her, nodding and answering questions, the light in her eyes just a bit dimmer than earlier.


	22. A Waltz Through the Sky

Stepping outside onto the roof of the small building that served as her mother's home, Fareeha took the first gasp of air she'd been able to since arrive, she figured. Given that she was the newest of the newest members, everybody was quick to figure her out, though she assured them that everything they needed to know was recorded. Thankfully, Winston had the foresight to bring her recorded drills on a disk, keeping the group intrigued long enough for the real Fareeha to make her escape.

She stood in the humid air for a bit, closing her eyes to take in the warm air that she'd become all too acquainted with as a child. She despised it whenever she had to exercise outside, but later on in life, she had learned that the heat had forced her body to work better than it may have otherwise, and by her army days, she'd taken advantage of her experience in dealing with the harsh climate.

She walked on toward the edge of the roof, leaning against the small fence that surrounded the surface, looking off toward the large Cairo buildings; the very same skyscrapers that had grown faster than even she had.

Without looking, she lowered her head with a smile, speaking loud enough for Angela to hear her, "I figured you'd be up here somewhere."

"How'd you figure?" Angela replied, flipping through a page of the book she'd brought to read.

Fareeha shrugged as she stood back up, turning around and leaning back against the fence, "Well, leaving through the front door would have invited far too many questions, for one. You okay?"

Angela nodded. She'd been sitting around a corner from the small frame that served as a small, indoor buffer before actually exiting onto the rooftop, her legs pulled up to hold her book for her as her arms wrapped around her knees. Fareeha easily could have taken her for a starry-eyed teenager, simply reading a book beneath a tree, imagining being off in some world she'd have no idea existed.

"Eh," Angela replied, surely, "After being solitary for so long, it just takes a while getting back used to large company, I suppose."

She smiled as she looked toward Fareeha, "Why are you out here? Shouldn't you be regaling?"

Fareeha shrugged again with a goofy grin, "Winston's doing it for me, with insightful commentary by our own Tracer. Mom just finished making the halva, anyway, so they're sure to be occupied for a little while. I didn't know there was such, uh, varying characters in Overwatch."

Angela nodded, returning to her book, "Some of them are like you; recruited behind closed doors. The pink one, Zar-something; she's seen a lot of shit in her day. And that tiny one was a competitive gamer or something. We seem to attract oddities."

Fareeha watched her blankly, though it gave Angela enough of an awkward pause that she turned back toward her, "We both know I'm an odd bird; come on."

Fareeha laughed slightly as she began walking toward her, pulling at her shirt again after bending over the fence, "I mean, I only got in because of my mother; I hope I attain that level of odd-ness that's so sought after here."

"First off," Angela noted, "You got in because of your merit, not your mother."

Fareeha smiled as Fareeha sat beside her bringer a knee up to rest her arm on as Angela finished, "Second, the only weird thing about you is that you give me the time of day."

She felt Fareeha's shoulder playfully bump into her as she smiled at her book, her lover's voice softly reappearing, "Like it was ever a challenge."

Angela smiled to herself, turning another page of her book as Fareeha went on, "Hey, you still have your necklace on, right?"

Turning to her with a nod, Angela reached into the top of her shirt, pulling out a similar looking necklace to the one Fareeha had worn. She carefully reached over, carefully examining the silver piece, before pulling her own necklace out of her shirt.

"Well, I wear the symbol of Horus on my eye. What you're wearing is hieroglyph "B1", which basically means a bunch of stuff, but it includes the deity Serket, who was Horus', uh, consort- BUT, I mean, it doesn't have to mean that in this case!"

Angela grinned, "You're good, newbie; keep going."

Fareeha sighed, "Well, uh, you know some about ancient mythology- deities represented certain things and all that. Serket protected scorpion bites, but basically any type of poisonous sting or bite. So, you know, she was sort of the goddess of medicine, healing; that sort of thing."

Angela nodded knowingly, her lips mashed together in feign thought, "Hmm, I see. and you mentioned something about scorpions in there, huh?"

Fareeha chuckled, looking back at her necklace, "Well, I mean, even you can't deny the symbolism, right?"

A wry smile creeping across her face, Angela shrugged, "I don't know, I suppose; if you like spiders that aren't really spiders."

"I mean it in the best way," Fareeha assured, softly leaning into Angela, "You're so solitary and independent; so quick to sting anybody who gets too close. It makes who you are so much more beautiful when you allow somebody to become so close to you."

"Ha ha," Angela laughed, playing along, "So if I'm the anti-venom, and I was stinging you, how did you stick around so long?"

Fareeha grinned, "Because even though you stung me sometimes, you wouldn't let me die."

Angela turned to her, her eyes suddenly having turned serious as Fareeha finished, "Maybe I was just your hero all along."

Angela lowered her head, playfully punching her other in the side, causing a laugh from Fareeha, who fell back while Angela spoke up, "It's a nice story, dear."

Fareeha smiled as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning close enough to rest her head atop of Angela's, peering down toward her book, "What are you reading?"

"Ashley Jensen," Angela confirmed, teasingly, "I believe you mistook her work for the one so dear to me?"

Fareeha groaned, burying her face in Angela's hair until her voice emerged a muffled sound, "Oh god…"

Angela giggled as she flipped through another page, seemingly enjoying what she was reading. She went on as Fareeha remained there, pulling away as the heat became unbearable. She simply leaned back against the wall, her head upturned, watching the endless sky above; her mind lost on some Parisian balcony where the two had shared drinks, or a Numbani shelter where the two had cared for sickly children, or some old discotheque in Nebraska- a place she'd promised not to recall due to some questionable dancing from Angela.

Still, she laughed to herself out loud, gaining Angela's attention, her smile appearing as she asked curiously, "What?"

Fareeha looked down at her, "Hey, you want to get on out of here?"

Angela eyed her seriously, "Huh?"

Without the use of her hands, Fareeha jumped up and onto her feet, "You wanna go off on another adventure? I took the week off anyway."

"To be with your mom!" Angela reminded, incredulously.

Fareeha waved her off, "Oh, come on, we're only inconveniencing her. Halva, certainly, is not on the list of things I'd like to be eating right now, that's for sure; I'm saving myself, really."

Angela stood up, "Okay, then we'll go grab a bite to-"

Her eyes were met with a predatorily seductive glance from Fareeha, one that quickly sent tremors down Angela's legs as she replied, quietly, "…oh."

Fareeha smirked, snapping her fingers just before the Raptora emerged from beneath the rooftop, Angela turning quickly to view the sight, her eyes wide, "Are you nuts?!"

Laughing again, Fareeha walked up to the suit as it hit the ground, placing her elbow up on its shoulder as she leaned on it, "I called in a favor to Winston. Said he'd hook me up, though I doubt he'd expect me to use it like this. Then again, it's not as if this function would be necessary out in the field; I'm already in the suit in the field."

She suddenly eyed her own suit suspiciously, wondering rather deeply about Winston's response before turning to Angela, who still watched her skeptically.

"Okay, let me sell you on this," Fareeha spoke, backing into the suit as it closed around her, her armored hand waving in the air in explanation, "Say there's a great bakery in downtown Cairo, or hell, there's a great bakery in Thebes- either one. Wouldn't they be sad not to have the most beautiful woman in the world not walking through their doors today?"

Angela stared at her, unamused, though Fareeha wasn't done yet, turning away as she thought, an idea coming to her as her finger rose into the air. She spun back around, stepping toward her lover, who stared back, questioningly.

"May I have this dance?" Fareeha asked with a smile.

Her arm outstretched, Fareeha noted, "You said you'd always dance with me."

Angela nodded, "I also said that I didn't want to upset your mother."

"So, I'll upset her!" Fareeha pleaded, "I just want my angel to myself, is all."

Sighing, Angela looked away, unsure, "…certainly it's too hot to be next to all that exhaust."

"It's cooler up in the atmosphere," Fareeha spoke up.

Reluctantly, Angela's head peered down at her feet, comparing them to the massive boots of the Raptora, much as she'd done so long ago- that moment she'd fallen in love with the person beneath the armor. Her foot shook as it rose up, gently stepping onto the foot of the armor, grabbing ahold of Fareeha as her opposite foot left the ground beneath her.

As had been the case last time, the Raptora was missing its arms, giving Angela the opportunity to find herself wrapped up within those tan arms she'd come to adore; their strength hiding just the most tender caress, or the most loving of tickles. She turned her head up, locking eyes with Fareeha as the solider smiled down at her.

"Amari/Ziegler Airways, all clear," she spoke, distortedly, as if through a speaker.

Angela could only laugh, "You're such a dork."

Fareeha smiled, "A, Z…"

"I'll forever love you," Angela offered, suddenly, "From A to Z."

Fareeha watched her, critiquingly, before nodding in approval, "I told you I liked cheesy. You're getting the hang on it."

"I have a good teacher," Angela reminded, sticking her tongue out.

Fareeha winked as the engines of her suit revved up, the two lightly lifting up off of the rooftop. Angela peered down at the ground, uninhibited by fear this time, openly watching them ascend, not noticing Fareeha staring at her.

"You couldn't hold on tight enough last time," Fareeha grinned, teasingly.

Angela nodded, still watching the ground below, "I was just afraid of falling last time."

Her head slowly rose up, the two's eyes meeting the others before Angela spoke up, "Falling in love, anyway."

The brightest of smiles appeared upon Fareeha's face, her shoulders lowering just enough so that the two could share a kiss. She loved every taste of this woman; every kiss of her lips, every word from her mouth, every thing that came into existence from her hands.

"Where to?" Angela asked, sincerely.

"Wherever," Fareeha answered, "I can do anything with you by my side, love."

* * *

 _A/N: Another story down! I had a wonderful time writing this one, and I would totally love returning to the Overwatch universe for another one. I sort of hinted to, both, Zarya and Hana having joined Overwatch, so perhaps I'll write their entry stories. I've played Zarya, maybe, once in randoms, so I knew next to nothing about her, but reading up on her lore, she has a great potential for a wonderful story :D_

 _In any case, like I mentioned at some other point, Pharmercy is really the only 'ship' I care to follow (I wasn't into ships at all until that portmanteau maybe eighteen degrees of sense), but I don't know, maybe I'll look into some others, or if you guys have some favorite pairs, I'd be happy to consider them, especially if they make sense. Hana and Lucio make so much more sense than Hana and Jack, for example xD Maybe I'll get a little 'expanded universe' going on with this, though, with Fareeha and Mercy appearing elsewhere? We'll see; it would certainly be a blast!_

 _Anyway, up next, I'd love to finish up my 'Two Moons' series, but as far as what I'm imagining in my head for the story, I'm not exactly in the right mindset for it. I may take a break, or go back to my Mass Effect story, which should improve once the story gets going- I have a few great ideas for it as well!'_

 _In any case, I love to write, so if I do take a break, it may prove to be a short one anyway xD I absolutely adore you guys taking the time out to read this; I actually had some dedicated reviewers as the story progressed, which was amazing! Hopefully you all will be happy with this story, and if you want to check out my other stuff, I hope you'll love it all as well! As always, I have plenty of my original fiction over on FictionPress, under the same username, though I've been so caught up over here, I haven't been able to work on my own stuff in quite a while :p_

 _Have a good one, and I hope to have you back for another tale in the future :)_


	23. Epilogue: Cairo Nights

**_A/N: Saro (lostlegendaerie on Tumblr) has so graced this story with a wonderful cover!_**

* * *

Angela Zeigler carefully made her way down the concrete stairs that ran up from the ice in the center of the arena, her feet gentle pressing down at each step as she slowly managed, her eyes zipping back and forth from the ground to the small tray of snacks she'd been holding. She finally stopped, realizing that she'd forgotten where her seat was, her lips twisting in thought as she looked around.

The crowd around her was silent, besides a few people's chattering amongst themselves, though in the small arena, the sound of the puck smacking against the boards of the ice rink sounded like a hammer falling against a cement floor. She watched as the skaters rushed down the ice, one of them powerfully pulling their body back and firing the puck past the goaltender, giving rise to most of the people in the stands, a fluttering of cheers entering the air between the vigorous sounds of high fives.

Other than that, however, the large body of a woman quickly stood up, raising a fist into the air, her voice shouting louder than anything else coming from the stands, "YEAH! GET SOME, JOHNSTON!"

Angela's head quickly spun around, slightly relieved that she wasn't close enough to be embarrassed, but she still made her way slightly further down toward the ice before ducking into one of the aisles towards her lover, Fareeha Amari, whose raucous spirit seemed to earn a few grins from the team whose sweater she was wearing.

Quietly, Angela took a seat beside her, Fareeha still cheering loudly, to the point where she hadn't noticed her companion, "YEAH, YOU HEARD ME!"

She began laughing heartily as she turned to watch the seat beneath her, only then noticing Angela's presence, "Oh! Nachos, alright!"

She quickly reached for a chip, though she was prepared to readily lean in for a kiss from her other, "Thanks, love."

Angela shrugged, "Oh, far be it from me to interrupt you and your charpping."

"'Chirping', dear," Fareeha laughed lightly as the clattering of the puck hitting sticks began to ring out once more.

Grinning pitiably, Angela reached down to stick her cup of soda in the holder in front of her, "I don't know why you keep bringing me; I just keep asking questions."

"I mean, at least they're not all the same," Fareeha noted through her chewing, "For the most part, anyway. Besides, I love seeing you when you get dressed for the cold, all up in your peacoat and scarf; you always look absolutely gorgeous! You're no bother at all; you put up with my antics, after all."

Angela smiled nervously, "Well, I suppose I find your…vigor amusing."

Fareeha grinned at her as she held her drink over for Angela to take a sip before turning back to the ice, "Man, this used to be so cool for us when we were kids. Ice in the desert? Are you freaking kidding me?"

She shook her head in disbelief, "I'm just floored we ended up with a team down here. The Helwan Dunes are a beast team this season."

Angela nodded absently as she looked on, obviously not nearly as excited as Fareeha was, though this wasn't much of anything new. The two would both involve the other in each other's activities to some extent, and in exchange for going to Angela's medical seminars, Fareeha took her to different sporting events. They both tried their best to show some interest, however; an act which both of them highly appreciated.

"They just missed an offsides," Angela pointed out, unimportantly, as she pointed onto the ice.

"Huh?" Fareeha asked, not seconds before the opposing team scored, leaving her with a quick and outrageous throwing up of her arms as she stood up.

"YO, REF! EVEN MY LADY SAW THAT OFFSIDES!"

Angela couldn't help but crack a smile at her claim of ownership, even if it was in the middle of a rather intense tirade. Fareeha huffed as she sat back down, shaking her head in dismay, crossing her arms.

"I tell you, man," she muttered angrily, sighing.

Angela leaned against her, shoulder to shoulder, "It's all good."

Fareeha turned to her, sighing as her anger subsided, reaching over to rub her knee, "I know, I know. They should do some tests on my blood pressure at a game; I tell you, they wouldn't be able to tell it was me."

Grinning, Angela replied, "Torby could tell from other signs, but Winston might fall for it, if only because he would leave to find some peanut butter to ease his frustration."

"By the way," Fareeha asked, "I know we're still "on call" despite this vacation, but what exactly has to transpire before we're called back?"

Angela shrugged, "It's most up to the board's discretion, I suppose. I'd probably be called back before you, simply due to my area of expertise, but even then, it would take a lot. Maybe if Mei got trapped inside of her cryo-lab again, they'd call you in."

"Just for that?" Fareeha asked, confused.

"Well, you have muscles," Angela noted nonchalantly, causing Fareeha to grin down toward her, "But, I mean, it would really take a lot."

Fareeha turned her attention back to the game as Angela watched her, dismayed by her heavy hockey sweater covering most her figure. She pulled out her phone and began swiping through it as a loud horn sounded, signaling the end of the period, giving Fareeha the chance to lean back in her seat for once.

"How goes it in cyberspace?"

Angela shrugged dismissively, "Nothing really. Lena sending invitations for dinner every weekend and Emily sending messages saying it's not necessary to do so every week. Then something about- Hang on."

She scrolled down further, her brow furrowing as she read, "Oh, a new assignment came through the line."

Angela hurriedly shut her phone off before pocketing it, looking up at Fareeha, innocently, "What?"

"Don't "what" me, Zeigler; what was it?" Fareeha spoke with a grimace.

Shrugging, Angela simply leaned against her other, "We both know that, if _you_ know, you'll cut this vacation short so you can complete it yourself. And you and I both know that, for the next two weeks, the only thing that needs cutting short are my skirts."

Fareeha sighed as she leaned her head back in dismay, leaving Angela to mutter out loud to herself, "It's not like you need to be running off to another continent anyway."

"It's international?!" Fareeha whined, "C'mon; at least tell me! I promise I won't go- I won't even think about going!"

Angela stared at her with feigned pity, "Sorry, love."

Fareeha groaned, but as she turned away, she couldn't hide a snicker, "You're saying it too, now."

Angela scoffed, "I assure you, I picked it up from _you_."

"Uh huh," Fareeha nodded, gleefully, "Not at all from you-know-who?"

With a sort of childish upset, Angela reached over and grasped the tray of nachos, "Well, I guess you don't actually need these if you're just going to tease me."

She held them at her other side as she lifted her head up in dismissal, though it only caused Fareeha a smile. She leaned over, resting her hand over Angela's at the side of the tray, her face resting atop Angela's as their lips touched in a kiss for a brief few seconds. Pulling away, Angela's eyes open pithily, watching her partner's eyes as she brought the tray back over.

"That'll stop working at some point…" Angela managed, weakly.

"Yeah, like you don't love it," Fareeha snickered as she began gnawing on a chip, her body quickly spinning around behind her, her eyes catching a man a few rows behind the two.

"Hey man, this is my woman here!" she clarified, spinning back into her seat.

Angela leaned toward her, "Dear, this is a public place."

"I saw the way he was staring," she explained, "I don't want anybody looking at you like that."

Angela sighed lightly as she turned to the same man, her voice sounding straight from a customer service manual, "I'm very sorry, sir."

The man only shrugged before returning to his glass of beer, leaving Angela to return to her date, shaking her head, "So protective of me."

Fareeha grinned alongside a wink, "You know it. Don't pretend as though you don't love it."

Smiling happily, Angela allowed Fareeha's arm to pull her closer, giving her the chance to rest her head on her shoulder, at least until the intermission ended, anyway. Still, it was these moment she'd come to love most.

* * *

The two of them left the arena amidst the large crowd, the few whoops and hollers of opposing fans ringing through the air as Fareeha groaned aloud, her arm wrapped around Angela's waist, pulling her close against Cairo's winter air. They'd developed a rule that, once leaving the arena, Fareeha had to limit her boisterous behavior, which she adhered to for the most part, and even her complaints resulting from losses were greatly lessened in the presence of Angela, simply because she knew she didn't particularly care.

Still, oftentimes, Angela simply obliged, rubbing her head against the side of Fareeha's chest as she stared up at her face, guided by her arm, "You can go on, dear."

"It's just- ugh!" Fareeha started, almost instantly, though she hurriedly released a sigh, shaking her head, "You know what? No. This is our night; we're not going to let a crummy team ruin it. And I'm taking you to the nicest place in town, so I know the food won't ruin anything."

Angela giggled for but a brief moment before curling her head into her side, her legs continuing to walk along fearlessly as Fareeha pulled or pushed her away alongside her with each approaching obstacle. Her face had become rather cold, but against Fareeha's woolen coat, it easily returned to a manageably lovely warmth.

"I don't know how you put up with me," Fareeha chuckled, rousing Angela from her side, "At sporting events, anyway. I mean, I guess you get some reading done, but-"

"But I love watching you," Angela muttered, rather plainly, "You're so passionate and loud; it's a bit becoming, actually. and very out-of-character, which is incredibly adorable."

Fareeha groaned aloud in embarrassment, "I suppose. Like you in the shower."

Angela turned up to her again, confused, "Huh?"

"You know, on those mornings when you have to get up earlier than me," Fareeha shrugged, "You think I'm asleep, so you steal my iPod and plug it into the speakers so you can find out what I listen to and, I guess, learn the lyrics."

Angela began to turn into a shade of red as Fareeha grinned, "But then a song comes up in Egyptian, and I guess you're so sure of what they're saying; even some of my English songs, you get the lyrics totally wrong."

She turned her smile down toward Angela, who'd tried hiding herself between her arm and torso, "But it's so adorable to listen to you sing the wrong stuff; it's difficult for me to listen to those songs and not hear whatever it is you've come up with. One song's become about cats clawing the castle rooftop or something."

Angela shuddered, "H-How do you put up with _me_ …"

"Because," Fareeha squeezed her arm around her, "You're adorable when you're out of character. Next time, we'll sing your songs your way."

"Well now I'm too embarrassed."

Fareeha smirked, "I mean, we could sing them out here if that helps."

Angela revealed the sight that Fareeha had coveted, the doctor's face suddenly staring up at her angrily, quickly speaking up a reply, "No!"

Leaving Fareeha with only a lighthearted laugh, Angela quickly returned to watching the road, reaching up to hold onto her companion's arm as if in apology, though Fareeha simply leaned her head over atop Angela's, feeling the softness of her hair against her cheek, the faint smell of lavender coming across.

"Hey," Fareeha muttered, quietly, feeling Angela twitch suddenly at being called, "I've still got you for the next two weeks, right?"

Angela's head tilted down and up, slightly, "I could get fifteen assignments. If the world were standing on the brink of war, I'd remain here with you. I work too many hours without you to earn this time, now."

"Just making sure," Fareeha smiled, albeit a bit gloomily as she thought of her words, "Although, I think war deserves a pass on that whole 'vacation' thing."

Angela grinned sarcastically, "If I get to the point where wars break out due to me, I'll make sure I'm on call 24/7, alright?"

Fareeha shrugged, "I see your face every day; I'm more than certain you could sail a few thousand ships. I know I'd send a few if you'd gone on with that super-secret-international thing earlier."

She paused for a moment, "Okay, maybe just the one I would man myself, but you know what I mean."

"All too well," Angela smiled contentedly, "All too well. You'd rescue me from the brink of death, if necessary."

"Well, you know," Fareeha smirked, "I'd have to even the score somehow."

The two walked along, slowly, as though attempting to not rush into the cold air in front of them, instead choosing to remain with each others' warmth. Angela's eyes fell to the ground, watching Fareeha's light steps, attempting to walk in time with her footsteps, though she found it a tad difficult with her lover's longer strides.

Lost in this unknown dance, Angela muttered absently, "The score was already settled."

"Huh?" Fareeha questioned, sincerely, watching Angela's distant face.

Angela remained quiet for a moment, mulling over her own words, before beginning again, slowly, "You've already rescued me. From my past, from my thoughts…from myself; that little thing that pushes people away. I might as well have been a ghost, simply wading through existence, lifelessly."

Her head rested gently against Fareeha, her gloved fingers slowly picking at each of Fareeha's digits, "I may not say it out loud, simply because it'd get boring, but… I thank you every day. For being in my life."

Fareeha smiled down at her, "I never once saw a hint of lifelessness within you."

"I know, but," Angela paused for a second, "It certainly felt as if that were the case. In which instance, there's very little difference."

She brought Fareeha's hand over to her face, gently kissing the wool over her hand, "So, yes, you did save my life. You gave it something more bright than I could ever have imagined. Something more kind…more soft…"

"More thrill seeking?" Fareeha attempted to complete, though it only earned her a quick dismissing look.

"Not exactly, no," Angela groaned, but she returned to a grin nonetheless.

Fareeha watched her for but a few more brief moments, smiling, before turned back to the path they'd been on. In the distance, the city lights were magnificently lining the streets and buildings, signifying so greatly the presence of life- of every person who resided to close by. But Angela had known a world so different.

The only body so illuminated. So significant. Was the one beside her, holding her close by.


End file.
